orange_crushed (orange_crushed) wrote in then_theres_us,

  • Mood:

The living end.

The living end. Ten/Rose, G. The short, short time between "A storm's approaching," and "Same old life."

There's a moon,

the lake

And it's like this-
paddling the edge of the lake.
There are mosquitoes on her lips,
no other sound but the slap of the waves.
You hear her perfectly when she says,
where are we going?
You paddle harder and pretend
this water's the end of the world.
Nothing past it;
nothing dark.

Carnival in Rio. The brightest star
is the one around your neck-
she's had too much to drink
and lost her shoes.
Where are we going,
she says.

You tilt her face towards heaven, and yours.
There's a moon,

No lie lasts forever. Half that time, maybe less.
She finds you with your fingers full of wires,
knees over the grates. Nowhere to run;
not even the Renaissance.
Better ask, how long.

Better ask,

There are suns being born and comets
circling the drain. She unplugs the tub and says,
let's stay in, tonight.
She falls asleep with you staring,
she's always touched by mercy for the weird ones. You don't pray.
Instead you ask-

-let there be time.

Tags: :orange_crushed, challenge 59
  • Post a new comment


    Anonymous comments are disabled in this journal

    default userpic

    Your IP address will be recorded