Conversations my brain has with itself when I convince myself I’m falling in love
How hard do I have to try to make you think I’m not crazy?
How many times do I have to spell your name before it sounds like my own?
How many keys in this trap door until one snaps?
How many strings strung broke on my guitar until this song about you is in tune?
Monday Monday Sunday Tuesday
When’s the next day of the rest of my life?
Key: C minor
accidental fourth step
below the night we met
in a church, that sanctuary
where we meditated on the scent of indigo
and the sound of lavender ringing
hearts and telling cold
stories that end with goodbye
Good night, good night
Do you believe me, good God?
Have I convinced you?
I’m not crazy, just disturbed
My story ends,
and strikes a chord
and hollows out the insides of my brain
What do you think my thoughts taste like?
Oh, and do you know what they told me in art school?
It’s all about the negative space.