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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 lifetime

 

played out a bit stale years later

proving that the music wasn’t worth much anyway

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About kacperniburski

I am searching for something in between the letters.

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