The same, the same, the same
Washing machine makes the floor shake,
kitchen surface trembles plates fall; break.
Pull the brake, make the same mistake,
as you made before; silence nestles into rages shadow,
I should go
and apologise, realise that what I did was wrong,
what did I do? Which one is this song?
Turn it up.
Turn it up.
Don’t turn up with blank expression,
regression to the same, repression
of anything like feeling,
from the tone;
as though that alone
was the cause of the issue,
raised voice, no tissue
for your tears,
it’s like fears were reality,
when in truth they never will be,
when in truth they never could be,
unless thinking makes it true?
Is that you,
or me that hides behind the latest copy of the times;
not the newspaper but the ones we live in, crimes
of a thousand people aren’t this dramatic.
I stand static
and wait for your reprisal,
Against what? My very survival?
I said already that I didn’t mean it;
‘Didn’t mean what?’ I fit
to your expression
and change mine to mean a lesson
See straight through it and then seize
Take one step back, but you knew it. Me,
I had no clue and stepped too close,
the rock slips. You enclose
my being, hold me in,
crying makes your t-shirt wet,
together we step back, and set
our weapons down. Nobody has
an explanation, nobody has
a reason for this.
Nobody know the meaning of this.
We are both tired and our eyes are red,
I looked at you, you looked at me and said,
‘I love you’
and knowing it’s the only true thing, I said it too.