Wilting in the Studio Like a Rose

Singing every sad song I knewWilting red rose
playing every broken hearted tune
crying to the music
dying in the spaces
knowing you’re not knowing
is saying more than I could

You’re laughing somewhere
making smiles and stories
telling beginnings and tales
of endless travels without
ever having a microphone

it’s not needed you know
like a ticket if you hide
until the conductor passes
still it would be good to have
if only to hold onto

there are tears on the transmitter
leaving small salt circles
almost heart shaped, listless
while I wait for the “No”
that is wilting like a rose

Wilting in the Studio Like a Rose

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