cries from a jet plane

It took me a long time to write again... I pondered and wondered over topics and lies and hazy interpretations... her picture kept dancing on my stage but I ignored her for fear of being my clichés. Ignorance has gotten me alas but only so far. She bounces around in the walls of my mind relentlessly. I’m in love. Its scary, its cliché. What’s wrong what’s right. I was numb until the stones u threw struck me. Drawing blood feeling pain... painfully... finally. U jumped my bones u deemed me redemption. I’m being poetic in an essay. I’m confused so is this thing that I write. It’s neither here nor there. It’s a maybe..."whatever" u keeps screaming. One of those stones u threw at me along the way. I don’t care I can feel now...I’m drunk on wine and mind and thought and lips I never kissed...don’t blame me for not being there. I want it as much as u...1000 kms and more they have a price tag. Hate it or love I cant but ignore it... I’d cross-seas for u (if my dad bought me a ship) I’d walk miles for you (if dad bought me a butler) I’d fly skies for you (if dad bought me a jet plane). Want is alas just a dream...fulfillment comes with a price. I’m already in debt let me pay them let me walk alone.... I’ll come patience counts, patience drowns. Choices aren’t easy to come by... and even when they do come by they’re too hard to make.
I’m scared. You made me feel fright. What am I scared of? Of being disloyal. I love you too much to lose you. Would it help id I never had you? Then I’d just be a walking zombie. Wandering through boulevards of regrets. Smiling at memories of you strewn along the way. I hate writing about you. You fill up my head and my senses like that song somebody sang. I’m bound in a prison chained to your lips. I hate it. I love it. I could write a million promises and doubts but dig me deep and I know I can’t run. I’ll come for you and all the dreams that you dreamed in me. Wanting to be the man that you saw in me. Doubt is of course my baggage for life but chase you I will. Am I too fucked up for you? That’s for you to answer. I’ll have to accept it that you’ve checked in to my head for life. You’re there singing songs and strumming guitars. “Every place I go I think of you, every song I sing I sing for you” – john Denver makes sense. Why does this frustrate me so? Do I have a fear of being happy? The question keeps ringing in my head. How long? Will we be this way forever? Sitting by your side looking at the seine sipping on coffee I never understand reading a book I cannot read because I’m too busy reading my life in your eyes, that’s what I want. We will get there. Hurdles are waiting to be jumped across and mountains are hoping to be climbed over. You’re waiting to be kissed. So I better get to it. Hold on for me I’ll be there soon. me, my ship and my butler together we’ll be leaving soon on a jet plane and john Denver will be singing from his grave!!