Untitled Polka #2

(This is where the accordion player begins to play a quiet, sharp, and somber tune,...)

What good will it do to fill these pages about him?
I've already tried and nothing ever gets solved
But I know that I can't stop it from happening
Just looking for some pathetic excuse to throw my entire life away with one moment that I can taste and feel coursing about in my brain everytime those eyes land near me, when that face strays too close to mine, and his mouth spilling words too profoundly musical to my ears
I wanted those shouts to be whispers, I wanted a few inches less so that the space between us beceame too small to detect - and what would that get me?
Some brief and timeless feeling followed by the heart-wrenching realization of that moment that just passed, and the lies would pour in like some trite and meaningless song and how would that feel?
How would that really feel?
That memory playing itself back and taunting any semblance of the heart that would be left beating, panicking in my chest -
All of this in the instant where my lips beg yours to quietly lay them to rest - do you get what I mean?

(... and this is where I collapse.)