Y4week45 about a vacuum

hey.. here goes the long supposed-to-be-a-song thing:

about a vacuum

she's a careless person, like a fool or like a child
wearing rags and feathers like a uniform of sorts
you could never hear your mother saying one nice word
about the girl you haven't mentioned yet, but swore not to lose
in the years' desert or the desperation tune

she finds you at the table with tea and a book
saying nothing really, but wearing that goodbye look
you know she'll be gone for hours now,
you've given up pleading and lectures, just bring her wool socks
and a sweater she will not put on even though it's cold

you feed the oven in the kitchen
with diagnosed and faux addictions
you stare at ceilings, out of windows
listen to the ticking clock
her absence is a space that grows and grows and grows
till worries and rationalism both lie defeated on the floor
of a vacuum you cannot breathe in, but you will preserve

like you've always done

when she's off dancing on long neglected flowerbeds
leaving footprints in a stranger's wildflower garden
out in the moon's light, crimson in her mind
her loose dress of liberty swings and sways so gracefully
up in a tree branch a cat's jealousy follows every pirouette
but she doesn't notice it because for now she's dead

dead to the present tense [maybe i should leave this line out]

it is well past midnight as she returns and finds her boy
curled up on the kitchen floor, sometimes sighing in his sleep
she listens to him breathing in the darkness of the house
her heart slowly settles then as does the longing tide
she puts on his sweater and sits by him till dawn.

okay.. it seems a bit chaotic, but i've done a few quick recordings of the vocals and it might make an ok song(for my low standard) i think...

cheers,
bluenightangel