Jealous

Bobby Vinton plays on the radio, Blue Velvet on the radio, let's kiss and make up at a jazz show. The faint echo of sensual music sways, in the same way we crave each other, in haunting dreams of fucking each other, loving each other. He says roses are red and sugar is sweet, and at times I feel as lonely as him, as forgotten as a teen idol. Guilty of compassion, letting go of the resentment, sand in my hands. My dreams of you are broken glass, fluttering butterflies in the darksun. Life was sublime in my haven, now life comes undone. The indifference returns, a revolving door. Either way I'm happy it's over, happy when I feel the soft touches of dissolute creatures. When no one is here, when there's no one to wipe away my tears or console me in my darkest moments, I trip at the fuse. When I get drunk and have the courage to tell you my feelings, there's more to me than staring at a ceiling. There's more to me than staring at the grey smoke of the sweet grey tea, there's more to me than staring at the white sky feeling purposeless. When life goes well it never lasts for long. When people have everything planned out it all goes wrong. When I'm filled with pain I can't escape and at my breaking point, who will hold me when I'm crying and make me feel like everything will be alright? When the wheels stop working and there's no more grease, and there are angels in my bedroom at the foot of my bed, will I live to see tomorrow rise again? Will I live to love you, to love you?