Musings on Me and You

My heart did echo for a deep eternity
While the winds of yesterday swept through
The hollow place

Now I find myself remembering broken things
Like a fallen bough that wished to wander
But curses the world as it sings
I remember the lamppost’s drone
And summer glow
As you might hoped it would have deep below
While the falling petals meet on the edges
Of walls and window sills
Too tired to seek glory and cheap thrills
Content to just be
And to be beautiful
But if I were to think back and see
Back when we would talk of you and me
And watch the world go by from a passenger’s seat
Whilst papers fall from sights and stairs
In the morning hours when no cares
When people would talk of me and you
I should hope then, that you remember too

There was a good man who came around the back
Sometime today, while we fed birds who hated the sun
He seemed to be a nervous thing
And he wore a black tie, and tarnished ring
Did he take you away?
I can’t recall much of anything anymore
But I do think about those bottles
And the old plates scattered about the floor
How they remind me of broken things
As a wax seal on that letter I never sent
Now it wastes in my drawer, yellow and bent
To think that we may have lied down
For the stars to witness
Whether it’s a comedy or tragedy I cannot say
I guess we’ll know at the end of the day
Did you catch that good man’s name?
He seemed to suffer under a stranger’s gaze
And it reminded me again, of the two different kinds of insane
But to forget a name!
Ah to forget is a luxury that I’m sure most adore
Those I’m sure have suffered all the same
Living happily in their futures
That they’ve planned so meticulously
But its alright, its alright
I can’t help but give up without a fight
As is custom in my ways
Though not content to say “certain” or “always”
I’d agree to such a whimsical cause
Yet when we touch the evening crickets pause

My greatest fears are wrapped up inside of you
Am I causing you much pain?
You sigh along with me, but know it’s true
Better than I, as would a host of felines
Who sit in basements and tell terrible tales
Of ghostly halls and rusty nails
A sublime sort of men
Reading their Bible verses of Job and Judas
Crossing off their puzzles that lie between us
But should you walk away
It is not yet the end of the day
And I would very much like to once more talk
Of you and me, and the deep dark walnut tree
But while the angels wasted away on the hill
They spoke of Hector and his men
Though not of the why or the when
When the fence posts rotted
And the roads broke beneath their feet
As they wandered here and there
Looking for water from street to street
I would’ve helped them if I knew
Just to what place they were marching too

Wise men always speak of silence
Though it were a draught of opiates
To dull our senses so we could be more content
With the world and its people
To give our love from each to each
Far from time’s sinister reach
As it would whither mountains
And bright green summer groves
To wash away our hair
And tear away our clothes
Someone once asked me if I knew
And to think they spoke of hate and love
And how I never thought of you
But was it me? No, I could not commit such fallacy
I am not made of courage, not malice
Not strength
I cannot sing the lyrics you so loved
Or measure our hair to any length
Yet when you asked me to the riverside
And we watched the geese rise with the tide
I thought I could enter the room and speak
Of poets and soldiers
Poets and soldiers
We never had a chance to meet
But we knew them all the same
For we gathered their lives without their fame
Violins still play in that our moment
But it doesn’t matter enough anymore
That you should think on it
Or should you linger outside my empty door
That connects the rooms of my old house
Where my mind's eye once lived
So freely
As if darkness of before and the light of after
Could come together again
And not ask of the why or the when

So the women they shall come and go
And so shall you
We will speak every now and then
Perhaps of the why and the when
If I could paint you a new world
I would
But those angels on the hill think
Less and less about you
Or if they could
Give life back to themselves
So perhaps they’ll know
And we’ll know too, when the day is done
How long the shadows
Can live beneath the dying sun
Or how long it will take me
To walk from here to you
And if I do
I would hope that some would stop and see
And rest a while to think
To journey forth upon the brink
Falling back and forth, in and out
Counting a million stars, and then none
While they catch their breathes
One by one