Incandlessence;

The hair on the tops of our heads stuck to our foreheads, but you and I didn't mind that. Our hands kept running off to the places our minds told them not to go, but you and I didn't mind that.

Your mom came a'knocking on your bedroom door and wall. We both jumped up, though there was nothing to hide. Later, I pushed you off your bed spilling all of that homemade lemonade. Your leather pants really looked 'alright' especially in our own little light.

I tried not to touch all of your 60 little carvings. Though I really did think about it, and really wanted to, and really did against all best judgement.

I told you about our incandescent children and about the owl on my roof. And all of the 'what if's'; 'what if' we were married, and 'what if' we never existed? You always did keep up without running and answered with your most sincere sad eyes.

Thank you for holding my hand and not saying all the secrets I hide from myself. Thank you for taking time to wrap it around my neck and for not pointing out all the things that were wrong in the things that we believe are right.

Never mind - everything, it wasn't anything. It was all 'Something.' Something, he is my favorite type of person; he doesn't exist.

It's not love, it's Incandlessence.
That's our own little story.

(Home - Edward Sharpe and The Magnetic Zeros)