Metaphors II for Madison II
You are the little boy in my dreams
skipping my heart beats like rocks across my darkest sea.
Everyone is always telling me
not to make mountains out of molehills,
but you're the only one that knows
I have molehills in my soul,
and you're the only one that knows,
having molehills in your soul
feels an awful lot more like having mountains.
So I'll make a mountain out of us
and promise you all of my days.
In turn, I expect all of your days back.
I want your long days,
drawn out like emergency room visits.
And I want your short days too.
Short like me, and short like your temper.
I want your bad days,
where nothing goes right.
We are not smooth,
We are mountains.
We are rough, and cold, and steep sometimes.
You can't expect mountains to always feel things
like serenity, or calm, or love
and I am ready for your rough days.
On our first date when I shot your straight to the moon,
without even taking you to the stars,
I knew that for the next 80 years
I wanted to be the only one to take you to the moon.
I won't let my unsteady legs keep me here,
just like you won't let your shaky shoulders
keep you from sweeping me off my feet.
Tonight, it looks like the moon is smiling.
I think he's smiling because he sees the silhouette of you
approaching across of the horizon of my heart.
I know that no metaphor is anyway to measure
all the heaviness you steal away from my heart.
I could have said, "Swiper, no swiping,"
but this isn't 5 years ago, and we're not kids anymore,
but I'll still search for all the words to let you know how I feel,
even if I only ever find them in vague metaphors.
skipping my heart beats like rocks across my darkest sea.
Everyone is always telling me
not to make mountains out of molehills,
but you're the only one that knows
I have molehills in my soul,
and you're the only one that knows,
having molehills in your soul
feels an awful lot more like having mountains.
So I'll make a mountain out of us
and promise you all of my days.
In turn, I expect all of your days back.
I want your long days,
drawn out like emergency room visits.
And I want your short days too.
Short like me, and short like your temper.
I want your bad days,
where nothing goes right.
We are not smooth,
We are mountains.
We are rough, and cold, and steep sometimes.
You can't expect mountains to always feel things
like serenity, or calm, or love
and I am ready for your rough days.
On our first date when I shot your straight to the moon,
without even taking you to the stars,
I knew that for the next 80 years
I wanted to be the only one to take you to the moon.
I won't let my unsteady legs keep me here,
just like you won't let your shaky shoulders
keep you from sweeping me off my feet.
Tonight, it looks like the moon is smiling.
I think he's smiling because he sees the silhouette of you
approaching across of the horizon of my heart.
I know that no metaphor is anyway to measure
all the heaviness you steal away from my heart.
I could have said, "Swiper, no swiping,"
but this isn't 5 years ago, and we're not kids anymore,
but I'll still search for all the words to let you know how I feel,
even if I only ever find them in vague metaphors.