called and automatically
got your answering machine
since when was this worth it?
it's fluctuated to the point of
lying on a flat plane of space
and nothing makes much of a difference
how long can a thing go on before
it runs out of space and time and momentum
before it twists and turns and careens
into the fourth dimension and morphs...
well it's morphed and gotten mishapen
to the point where i can't touch it
or assess it the way i used to
we used to lie beneath the sky at dusk
we used to lie through our teeth when we had to
elation is scarce in mid-day ponderings
our minds were always fallible
the present was never tangible
but we pretended we could touch it
like a cloth of the finest silk
but it wasn't silk, was it
it was my grandma's sweater
smelling of mothballs
like it smelled in the closet
where you kissed me in November.
i'll travel far away for you
across highways of rugged tar
and wish on every minute of the clock
just to see if it really does work
the wind will blow in direction of my car
and push me back back back
it'll push me and whisper
back back back
comfort doesn't want you
back back back
i stray away from cliché
so i love you in a strange way
unknown to many
known to many,
i wouldn't know
i've never been too keen on other people's feelings
but in my mind i hold you as high
as a supreme being
and you treat me like a commoner
but it's okay, it's okay
i love you in a strange way.
I really like your style, I think that we think alike. I like your randomness and tangents. I feel like I really am in your head when I read your work. I have a few little issues with your repetition in the 3rd stanza. You repeat silk, and you kinda repeat with smelling and smelled.
I tried tinkering/rewording, and couldn't come up with anything, and then I read it again, and it didn't sound so bad. I just always try not to be repetitious unless it is a pattern in my poems. But it's not really that big of a deal.
"we used to lie beneath the sky at dusk
we used to lie through our teeth when we had to"
I really like these lines especially. Sigh. This poetic meandering through dirty laundry (grandma's sweater and closets! hm!) is very interesting to me. I like the details you give... I often find myself liking concrete details in poems and songs—not just general statements, for example you could have said
"It smelled of dust in the closet where you kissed me"
but instead you gave us more details of mothballs and
"where you kissed me in November." I like the details.
"but it's okay, it's okay
i love you in a strange way."