A Place In Your World


I want to be the music you wear
When you’re sad,
That wraps around you in subtle shades
Of ache and raindrops
Becoming the words that pull
The threads of your misery
From the ragged lips of your scars.

Maybe I could be the smoke
Swirling in your lungs
A need and a slow suicide all at once
The mortality you embrace
With equal parts longing and loathing
The poison you can’t live without
Consumed by your addiction.

Or perhaps I could live
As the absence, the hole
Defined by the bedsheets
You refuse to make
The half empty cup of coffee
Or the unwashed t-shirt
You run through the knots of your fingers
Like a rosary measuring the missing.

I would gladly
Become all of your sorrow
If it meant I had a place
A presence somewhere
In your world,
Some desperate form of relevance
Instead of just the furniture.

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One Response to “A Place In Your World”

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