izz_midnight

We stand on the dock,

The sun has set,

But I can see your happiness 

Even in the dead of night.

The streetlight's on,

The metal is all rusted

And covered in salt,

I.

A small brush of fingers,

Biting your lips to stop a smile,

Choking on the words,

Dancing late under streetlights,

Everything could change with one slip,

Find my waist, feel my heartbeat,

The puzzle's missing a piece,

It's not an important one; 

just some small piece in the middle.

It's dark purple, and rough on the edges,

It's under the floorboards,

all frayed, and torn apart;

i'm looking through the boxes shoved in the corner of the attic

and i come across an old one marked random,

doesn't look like anyone's been through it,

but I start...

and i find that photograph;

a community of fools

given the power to combine words

and a pen

that can write so much meaning

in just two, or three, or millions of words,

and sometimes, there aren't enough