When you decide that I no longer
seem as shiny as before,
I’ll open the door for you to leave.
In my mind I will
Hope that you trip over your fickle mind
Hope that you trip over your sinful eyes
Hope that you trip over your overwhelming desires
Hope that you trip over my
Apology letters of white lines
Hope that you trip over
My swollen bloodshot windows
Hope that you trip
Over my broken guitar strings
I hope you trip
Back head over heels in love with me.
Oh yes, tell me the truth and I will let you leave — but I won’t stomp out the fire till you step out of the door and close it shut behind you. I’m not a paradox, I’m a hopeful pragmatist.
” He stepped down, trying not to look long at her, as if she were the sun, yet he saw her, like the sun, even without looking. ” – Anna Karenina, Leo Tolstoy