Ever since I returned to Vancouver from my recent trip to India, I awaken at 3 every morning and stay awake for a good hour. During this twilight insomnia sometimes I take a walk or talk to friends in India. Last night, however, I took a jab at poetry. And here’s what I ended up with.
It’s begun to hope again
There, the wings are fluttering
And it’s all your fault,
You’re doing this sweet thing!
Your whispers of sweet nothings
Make my clumsy heart fly
But this time I won’t trust it
I know better than that, uhh.. do I?
It’s stupid ’cause it’s free
It doesn’t remember
Every time it’s fallen in love
It’s made me a member
I’ve paid a heavy price
For walking on thin ice
And blindly following it
Crying bloody tears in the end.
You tell me it’s going to happen again,
Tell me, how can I just do it?
But it’s stupid and free
And it doesn’t know it’s hurt
But I’m telling you now, boy
It’s broken and turning to dirt
Tread carefully around it
I’m putting it together, to seal it
It was recently in pieces again
And this time I don’t even want to heal it
So yeah, it’s stupid and still free
And this isn’t a happy ending.
Wait, I sense something
I think its fluttering, hoping…