Murmur

My dreams aren’t made of anything really. Maybe I could place Television sets all around me.
Use the length of these stories and make you a paper plane

I asked her to stay, I even put my hands on her knees.
Slow waltzed to her mind.
Then, I asked her to stay once more.
7th floor windows waned backed at me. Let’s fall asleep. Come here and sit beside me. I’d really like that.

You know the conical angles that a street lamp gives out. The one that strangely remind me of you and your strangeness. I’ll get used to her detail.
I’ll get used to you too.
I’ll even say goodbye and meet you the very next day.
And your name will be a murmur

Just like my own.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s