i dream of
limburgse vlaai crumbs
in the corners of my mouth
and my hair smells of
lavender because
i can't sleep.
wet bike tires cut through
puddles and there were
no thoughts in my head:
nothing to say,
nothing to account for.
i find myself wanting
to go back rather than forward,
to have you hold me
a little longer in that small bed
even if there are tears
even if it hurts
at least it hurt.
i used to spill all over
the streets, warming
my stomach with beer
and loving everything
so hard
that i would fall over
like a spinning top.
but tossing in this big bed
reminds me that
when i come back
i will have so much to say,
so much to account for.
you will open your arms
and try to hold it all;
it will throw you off
balance and i'll just
laugh and
catch you.
And I remember she used to fall down a lot
That girl was always falling
Again and again
- The Cure
