hope

It’s hard to keep track of you falling through the sky
“Fake Empire,” The National

there are no bad decisions only bad outcomes

i tell you mostly our intimate parody

because you are all hopeful and i all hopeless

move closer i say to you because my argument is my hand

slipped around the curve of your back to guide you

although i know encircling you only makes your passions rise

you will not reply or argue because everything is settled in your world

not decisions but recognitions drawing us like wild sheep to green pasture

kiss my neck you whisper as i hold you tight against falling

while your hand has countered as i hoped you would

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