Will you make me a promise?
– A lie for you
To never get old.
But always be there.
Stay as strong as you are.
And as weak as me.
Will you make me a promise?
– A gift for me
To be everything I ask.
But more that I don’t.
Prop me up when I stumble.
Even if you fall.
Will you make me a promise?
– A story to tell
Never tell me the truth.
Even if I ask
– A heart to break
A snatched line,
Tells me little of you.
Stolen phrase,
Gives away more of them.
Accidental truth,
On the rushing wind.
Sounds like an ending.
And by luck.
Or mischief.
I have built a life.
The story of you.
Which I will feed
To any hungry ears.
All was won.
He said.
And I was not
To worry anymore.
I was to sleep.
Never to dream.
Just not to worry.
So our lies
Ran side by side.
He would fight
No more.
I would watch
My nights mind.
No more.
Just not to worry.
I do not speak.
Of the things
The stars show me.
He does not tell
Of his days.
Just tall tales are
Told.
We do not worry.
On top of a storybook hill.
A man ran around and around.
Until he wore a perfect circle.
In the emerald green ground.
At the softest point in it,
He lay down to sleep.
And there he stays to this day.
Not on the way up, down.
Or coming and going.
But resting forever.
Without beginning
Or
End.
Once upon a time.
A story started
Such a way.
That made me cry.
No matter how many
Times I read cover to cover.
Then, somewhere along the way,
And little by little.
I forgot all the words.
And lost my belief
In imagination.
Once upon this time.
The story faded away.
And now all tears are
Reserved for the real things
In life.
Forever after?
I want to write.
On your soft pale skin.
Cover you with letters.
A tale from top to toe.
To tell the inside,
On the out.
I want my calligraphy
Dark twists and loops.
To tell everyone.
The story.
That is.
You.
I could tell you a story.
About yesterday.
Or so it would seem
To me.
And every detail would
Be pin sharp.
All the characters
Oh so well defined.
But why I am here
On this very day.
And telling a tale
To you, just you.
I admit
To not having
The faintest clue.
On that day.
My memory shudders.
We parted forever.
In to desperate
Futures unknown.
Over and after this,
Mine led me here.
Letting my life
Unfold in words.
Weaving the history
I lived through,
In to something
Of truth, for
You to share.
With any others
You believe,
Would enjoy
This tale
Of mine.
I am the story.
Each word is
A limb.
The sentence
My spine.
Im covered
In paragraph
Skin.
You read every
Part of me.
Devouring with
Your eyes.
Letter by
Letter.
Page by turned
Page.
Till the end has
Come and I am
Nothing but a
Full
Stop
.
Keep turning
Still turning
The paper
In your hand
Rustles as it
Flies over again
Fast as you can
Pages turn
The words won’t
Change no matter
How much you
Wish them to
The only way
To make them stop
To change the tale
Keep turning
Still turning
Read on
Until the end.
Then it Started 