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A catalogue of ill gotten forgoteries |
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Knocking at your door at nine |
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Tumbling down like sand castles |
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Your eiderdown |
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Slipping off your skin and mine |
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But something strikes |
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At my window one night |
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I awake imagining you |
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Standing out on the beach |
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With a pocket torch and a lock of hair |
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And not knowing what to do |
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There are plenty of boys in the sea |
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But none of them love you like me |
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We'll never argue, we'll never sigh |
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If I never see you |
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We can't say goodbye |
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The streets all muscle in with hunger |
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For the nights I should've slept with you |
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You didn't answer the phone |
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I drove across town through dusk |
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Cathedrals, museum and school |
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But by the time I arrived |
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Your room looked like you'd gone away |
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And were sure never to return |
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A pile of magazines |
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My letters under coffee cups |
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Unanswered and unconcerned |
