“The problem with showing your lover your scars,
is that everybody’s lover
is covered in scars.”

Wasting water
by me

opening slowly
the surfaces cracked
the two of us hiding confessions
in-between winks and clicks
engaging in this modern scar-exchange
of vulnerability in ten words
or less

This is the year
the place
this moment of beginning

stories expanding
the insides retracted
the two of us sharing expositions
in hallways and smoking sections
sitting so close together that I could feel your heart-beating
and smell the kind of laundry detergent
you buy

This is the song
the lyric
the contents that I can’t speak

Please listen

windows clossing
the emptiness expanded
one of us endlessly pressing refresh
drowning in all the waiting
knowing that all there will ever be is vacancy
logged out without explanation
without a fucking word

Disappearing into this modern flicker-and-fade

So does this make you a ghost?
does it make me just another fool?

Still pressing play
rewind
re-read
return

Plain Sailing Weather :: Frank Turner