Letters

There's something in the way
the rhythm of a missing string moves
Notes and notes picked in grey
sighing sweet reverberation


Awake, awake, awake
by definition, at least
Churning and turning and trampling
across fields folding in on themselves


Commuting on the Bus of the Defeated
to a feeling of far away


A constriction of sorts
and some frustration of certainty
in the uncertain


-----
...well, that was wonderfully angst-y and depressing. I have no idea what any of this is/was, and I'm not sure if each 'verse' meant to be all be together or not. Just kinda thoughts and half thoughts that've been swirling around my cranium over the last lil' while. I ain't no poet or prosesmith, so take this refuse for what it is.
-Cril

And I,
I called through the air that night
A calm sea voiced with a lie
I could only smile,
I've been alone some time
And all, and all,
It's been fine

And you,
You had hope for me now
I danced all around it somehow
Be fair to me,
I may drift a while
Were it up to me,
You know I'd

Beirut - Port of Call