Bon Iver – Beach Baby
The wait of it all, filling
books with those I won’t kill,
books my darlings fill.
Scraps will fall, telling
how I keep my memories;
ones I’ll forget eventually
’cause sequences, strings and strands.
Cross my I’s and dot my and’s,
’cause I don’t know the state I’m in,
nor the vessel Magdalene,
or why old apologies
were so self serving.
–
Ways they taper, silent
does an end appear.
Does it dull the fear?
Is there a place to hide it?
Well I hide mine here,
scrawled within some post or mirror,
’cause I’ve never known the pain,
the cringe, the blow across the face
of losing such a piece of me.
But that’s how it has to be.
The sorrow on that last reprise,
to read my words through fresh new eyes.
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