space

What if the sky filled the spaces between people with color
and called upon hypocrisy with strikes of lightning?

And 7 cities ago I heard rings like second chances through the telephone
and we were so beautiful then, coming together like no space existed

The city gave us millions and buildings all around us wrapped with imperfection
and you and I – we adored it all, saw I love you’s scattered in beads,
rolling and rolling away, wasted beads of wasted value,
laced with remorseful glances, bitter tears and words,
twisted around fragmented, depraved hearts.

We used to promise we couldn’t leave this solitude
even if we tried and hypocrites – the both of us,
dinosaurs, you and me, that can lie in every sense,
feeling too big for anywhere, better than the rest of them,
a love so big it’d claw its way up but we forgot dinosaurs
are vicious and I used to roar and you would fly away.

We took up too much space – stars were too far apart
and cities and statues were weeping,
condemned to a life of stone, like the lives they’ve buried
but we couldn’t hear anyone or anything, too proud
to admit that the space between us was too consuming.

If I told you one thing it’d be that we would have died of lightning
shocked into submission, if lightning took it’s time
to hate us and our promises we broke,
like we told ourselves that night skies
were stars and the spaces between them,
and humans were people and the spaces between them,
and I don’t know what we called love,
but lightning killed us anyways.

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