gogoponypanic

Five's and Seven's

Cobblestone streets just don't do it for me
Not like cold, smooth pavement
without character or mercy
I blame my boots, they just don't
sound the same on soft things.
I need to be able to hear my demons
Just under the surface
In every footstep.
From her doorstep
With it's seven steps down
But only five up
The farther to fall you used to joke
Never one to suffer
a purple elephant to live
the things we never talked about
while sleeping back to back
never thinking about what that could mean.
Those conversations were in English
but my side speaks Dutch.
You hate how long it takes me to lace and
unlace my boots when we go out
on a whim and return in passion
respectively. Gotta be clear right?
You never hear me rattle the door
like you showed me because you
couldn't afford a spare key. Or
so you told me. But maybe you just
couldn't afford six or seven, I forget which.
Maybe I should use my fingers to keep track.
But they, they're always busy on you. Can't
seem to resist. Five steps up, but seven down
and trust me,
that last one is a doozy.