i can't see the sunshine when i'm lying on the floor

you stole a piece of the seaweed sky and crafted it
into a perfumed lullaby while daylight burned
the remains of a renegade winter-

a copycat murder defined by a hit and run
cliché stolen from the epitaphs
of hung-over poets

and as thunder played a jazz and blues harmony
dedicated in their memory- guitar strings laced
our throats, waiting for the silence
to break from our lips

i yearned to know what the quiet whispers
shared between the stars say and if they
ever talked about me and you with
their exploding tongues

i should have realized by now that
i'm just a dog-eared copy from the
pages of your scrapbook mind

just a tiny note inside a bottle
from a stranger whose heart
has lost its reason to beat

you have to swim against the current just
to find something worth believing in,
something tangible enough to hold on to
and yet, still ephemeral to let go of,
eventually

a dream within a dream, lost at sea-
you smiled a little, i cried a little
and we both died a little

.

.

.