Analog

- Betwixt: Phase III - Poem V -

I want you to know that I don’t choose you to blame,

Wired in warmth, you were my analog frame

I’ll keep on fixing us even if it takes a while,

And color our figures like an artistic child

I’ll shimmer, I’ll fracture, I’ll dance in disguise,

A thousand refractions in desperate eyes

When the room quiets and no one’s here,

I’ll be there to wipe your tears

I still hope you see,

You’re never gonna be gone from my memory

Do your friends know that we are a part?

Or did someone break your heart?

You said we weren’t a fit, that our constellations misaligned,

That I bent too much to call you mine

But I’d pick you out of a crowd on the stage,

The eye of my orbit, the spark of my age

So the ballroom is empty, the balloons have fallen,

The punch is old, and there are streamers crawling

You sit alone with a cup in hand,

I approached after the end of the band

I’m not built for ease; I trip and stumble a lot,

But the way we danced, I haven’t forgot

I hope you remember too,

In your fine pressed suit

I climb every silence, I leap every plea,

To make up for that weekend you never visited me

So take this version of me,

With my analog ways and head pristine

‘Cause I’m a man of a molded configure,

A mess of colors, a painted blur

You are too, and I’ll take you every day,

Tonight I’ll reflect on every version of you that you forsake