your tears on my pillow
shedding the stones that have weighed you down
the silhouette that has danced its last waltz
because the surf consoled and advised
the bottle filled with a lost letter, a vow of a future
ash and blue as the sky casts in fiery orange
the haze of the world through its fury
but it all ends with you melting into my arms
the champion to smooth your edges
and your squeeze, the liberation from the prison of the day
the supplement that feeds your qualm
and i’m the antidote seeping through
my touch, my words, the music that soothes you asleep
but here
your tears on my pillow
as i’m no longer your hero
no longer an alleviation from your ailments
the air that lifts into space
and carries you through the saddest nights
the burlesque and the mischief only to be choked with doubts
pull the rustic blanket over your head and disappear
to be selfish, the self-centered spy
that catches himself in all but lies
pardon my guilt but i am weak
the flourishing clown that evokes dissolution
a quake to strike you off your feet
the shrieking sound as i am pulling my hair out
but here i stand before you all grown up
saturate with fake courage but it’s enough for you to believe
all is well

your tears on my pillow
the night scrambled another figure of perfection
and brought it down to his knees
i’ll scram plenty to pull another trick
i’ll fold my hands with yours, wipe your tears, and pray
only to see you surface to the top once again

© jacob greb — from lovers’ tiff: a ballad