007. Heaven

place your hands on the earth and spin it around.
do it, and watch the world spin round in your hands.
isn't it so haunting, that you're just
a little speck on this great glass globe?

and the music is playing in your mind, disco ball and all.
i can see the light  flashing behind your eyes,
and as long as you don't get a migraine, i'm okay with
whatever goes on inside your head.

if i write you a love song,
will you remember me?
i promise to make it pretty, and i won't add any hurt
for you to read.

you write your initials on the glass, the way you
smear your fingertips on my heart.
i'm asking you to come, but
then the rainy day begins and
you're never at my side.

and the girl in the purple shirt dancing at the playground
is someone i used to know,
but she's too wild and light and free for me
to recall her name.
(i want to be her.)
and the bird sitting next to my shoe refuses to fly away
no matter how many times i nudge it with my foot.
(it reminds me of me.)
maybe it's dead.
maybe i'm dead.

i'm picking flowers apart by the petals
and my mind is running the age-old circle:
youloveme-youlovemenot-youloveme-youlovemenot-
pleaseloveme
don't love me if you don't want to get hurt.

and i'm waiting for the sun to set, but apparently it
isn't about to anytime soon. i wonder if i blinked,
and in the brief second that i did,
it disappeared behind the glittering skyscrapers.
and oh, i miss the new york skyline so much
it hurts.
and oh, darling,
i miss you.

and maybe you'll remember that i surf the
internet for answers as to what my horoscope says
for tonight, or where wolves live, or
why i am filled with such longing when i look into
the starry sky.

and if i knew your name, i'd come and find you,
but you're just another storm-eyed stranger
vanishing in the faceless crowd.
and

someday, if we ever meet again,
i'll ask you for your name and adress and telephone number.

(oh, and i'd ask for your heart, too.)

and the parenthesises that line the words are so beautiful,
like crimson leaves flying in the wind.
five-ten-fifteen-two years from now, i'll let you
kiss my collarbone, wrists, shoulders until i shiver
if you promise i can trace stories on your spine.
(i can't say that they'll have a happy ending, but each one will start with
onceuponatime)

and if it gets any darker, i'm afraid i'll lose myself,
but darling, if it gets darker, you won't be able to see
how scared i am.

i hope that bird is in heaven, wherever,
(whatever,) that may be.
and maybe i'll meet it there someday,
before the rainy days begin. and i'll meet it there
when i don't need you anymore.

and i don't know when that will be,
or if a day like that will ever even come.
but i'll keep wishing because
memories and hopes and wishes alone
can't keep you alive.

so unless i don't want to see you on the other side of the globe,
i have to let the music go.
but darling, the girl in the purple shirt is saying
that all this music will just lead me to you.
either way,
i'll meet you up in heaven.