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Spaghetti knots

what was the song called

not dressed right

during the last nights of dancing


composed of still sagging pants

mouthing your name


a fedora filled with the cold

thoughts of yesterday’s goals


and this moment of a leg over another

wanton with more


a beat a slip a light snapping at my eyes

to look at how to move like morning


smoking over a summer to be

a winter that can dip and die


until the next song slides in between

the deep kissing of hand holding


and the smooth wind between your knee

where you take me aside


compliment me on my style

whisper to meet you in the small quiet


to spend the darkness in untrained cpr

against a heart that is taken away by a life


played out a bit stale years later

proving that the music wasn’t worth much anyway

About kacperniburski

I am searching for something in between the letters.


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