imaginary knife

we earned our memories on the berth where trees are born
on the hill where you told me you were a feather
where i learned i was a hero
a hero preparing to fail

i told you i would find you there, in your own self-worth
where the lakes were on fire
we met in the endless summer and listened to the ghosts tell stories about the most wonderful things
while the autumn was fixin to attack the leaves
like cancer attacking hope

i'll be the ghost for you. the ghost of a failing hero
these feelings make me spin
in meadows.
knowing i'm the villian in the breaking heart
the eavesdropping clouds make me wanna spit about what i've heard from you're mind.

we build our battlements on this hill, prepare for the autumn's siege
and sing funeral songs about love
as i paint your portrait onto gravestones
i want to feel unrequited. in the shadow of the troubador's forest
you float there, feather.
it's good enough just to watch you.

sometimes i cringe when my name tastes like your lips
and i can't bring myself to face east
sometimes i hear your voice in the cold wind that scouts for General Winter
and sometimes i know i'm alive when the sun colors me in joy
and the argent notes become gilded tongues
and the words mean anything you want.