Blue light bleeds across the floor
The clock has nothing to say
I felt you leave an hour before
The door began to sway
The sofa floats a foot above
The carpet turns to glass
I watched you turn your voice to glove
And let the silence pass
Pull the current through my skin
Where the shoreline wont begin
Let the waves forget their names
Lose the harbor lose the frames
The window hums a single note
The moon is twice as wide
I kept your letter in my coat
But the words have learned to hide
Your shadow stretched beyond the wall
Then folded like a sheet
I tried to catch it but the fall
Turned horizontal underneath
Pull the current through my skin
Where the shoreline wont begin
Let the waves forget their names
Lose the harbor lose the frames
Nothing rises nothing sinks
The glass is water the water blinks
I stopped counting where I end
Or where the ceiling starts to bend
Pull the current through my skin
Shoreline never begins
Waves forget their names
Lose the frames
The sofa landed
The door stayed still
Im not waiting
Im just