The place where I gathered all our hopeless dreams
only to bear witness to each of them devouring another.
My arms that always failed
to protect the things I cared about.
All of it was useless in the end wasn’t it?
I would take back the mistakes if I could.
I’d run through the world to come and
kick down your door,
just a torrid, dreaming vagabond
smoking lithium from a lotus flower.
I’d say, “I’m here, my darlin. I’m here for good.”
But things never turned out the way we thought they should,
and our hearts are still just opposite horizons
torn in half by the same savage splinter of lightning.
I still dream of you swaying to my music
as you balance yourself on this piano.
I am still haunted by all the things in this world
that remind me of you.
I still sing songs
that offer you my melancholy love
and the hope that this world does not change you,
And if I could, Virgo,
I’d bring you into my arms
and tell you that I always did love you.
I’d tell you that, no matter the paths we take,
I always will.
Nathan McCool is a member of Blood Into Ink and the Sudden Denouement Literary Collective. You can find the haint, dusk, and sizzling of his concrete snares on his blog, Mist of Melancholia.