Untitled

for where we are is hell

and where hell is must we ever be



[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]

In the terminal she sleeps on my shoulder,
hair falling forward, mouth all askew.
Fluorescent announcments beat their wings overhead:
“Passengers missing, we’re looking for you.”
And she dreams through the noise, her weight against me,
hair pressed into the corduroy grooves.

Maybe it means nothing,
maybe it means nothing,
maybe it means nothing,
but I’m afraid to move.

08:45 pm, by doctorconquest28
Notes
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    “It’s so beautiful here,” she says, “this moment now, this moment now.” And I never thought I would find her here,...
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    this is such a beautiful song.
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