Two Augusts agoI told the truth, oh, but you didn’t like it, you went homeYou’re in your Benz, I’m by the gateNow you go aloneCharm all the people you train for, you mean well but aim lowAnd I’ll make it known like I’m getting paid
That’s just the way life goesI like to slam doors closedTrust me, I know it’s always about meI love you, I’m sorry
The blush is mostly off this summer’s coquette rose, but we’ll always have the music. And as long as we can hear it, the beat will go on. And as long as the beat goes on, the heart has the capability of feeling full. A coquette summer leads with longing and ends with something else… this post is leading us to that something else. This post leads to what might be next. My niece Emi tells me this next song is coquette. I listened to it – well, the quick snippets of it that she had the patience to play. I sent her a text asking her to send me more coquette song ideas. She never replied. Silence and a song.
Two summers from nowWe’ll have been talking, but not all that often, we’re cool nowI’ll be on a boat, you’re on a plane Going somewhere saneAnd I’ll have a drinkWistfully lean out my window and watch the sun set on the lakeIt might not feel real, but it’s okay, mh
‘Cause that’s just the way life goesI push my luck, it showsThankful you don’t send someone to kill meI love you, I’m sorry
Summer sunsetz… August on the cusp of waning. This strange season of healing and hope, where deluge has followed dream, leaves me with an empty and dull ache. A classic coquette conundrum: balm of beauty and hurt of heart. There is no extricating one from the other. Summer winds around itself like some self-defeating vine, twirling tendrils and unfurling flowers that have only ever appeared in fantasies and fables. We weave our stories with summer’s light, retelling tales and rebuilding the past.
You were the best but you were the worstAs sick as it sounds, I loved you firstI was a dick, it is what it isA habit to kick, the age-old curseI tend to laugh whenever I’m sadStare at the crash, it actually worksMaking amends, this shit never endsI’m wrong again, wrong again
An August sunset is a story in and of itself, but you have to learn how to listen, and you have to know how to wait. Entire books can be written in the time the sun takes to put itself in hiding for the night, but that’s a secret I’ve only glimpsed in bits and pieces – the whole trick remains elusive and out of reach for my greedy hands. I want it too much; my thirst is too desperate ~ another aspect of the coquette.
The way life goesJoyriding down our roadLay on the horn to prove that it haunts meI love you, I’m sorryThe way life goes (you were the best but you were the worst)(As sick as it sounds, I loved you first)I wanna speak in code (I was a dick, it is what it is)(A habit to kick, the age-old curse)Hope that I don’t, won’t make it about me (I tend to laugh whenever I’m sad)(Stare at the crash, it actually works)I love you, I’m sorry
The sunset behind us, we drive into the deepening night of a darkening summer. The fade to black is beautiful at this time of the year.
