to send me blue valentines
like half forgotten dreams
like a pebble in my shoe
as i walk these streets
and the ghost of your memory
is the thistle in the kiss
and the burglar that can break a roses neck
its the tattooed broken promise
that i hide beneath my sleeve
and i see you every time i turn back

its clear blue skies and coloured cancers and dark kisses, holes in stomachs and empty minds full of half-formed words, thoughts on nothing and lists of all the things that never mattered, and the feeling in the blood that makes you restless, but the boiling chaos is silent, drenched in the quiet of davidson's brooklyn backseats and all those other car rides, in beirut and in 77 and with sheep and in the clouds, but they are gone, somewhere, there's nothing but clear, empty, enraging, peaceful blue and light that makes everything disappear.