HERES A STORY!

heres a story then yeah!

My eyes would collect dust if I never saw you again. If we were in school I would offer you the apple in my lunchbox. My wishes are that you will look at me instead of the blackboard because the colour of my eyes is all the education you will ever need. I will follow you to the school bus.

Everytime I'm on a bus all I want is to be home, my body feeling the tiresome wear of the journey that has been part of my life for longer than my mind will ever know. All I ever seem to be doing is travelling around. But your face is my travelling book, and in my mind I read it over and over again until the hills have become my house, and I'm at home again. And with the book that holds your face in my bag, I put on a song that sounds like your body and I hum this song of you on the long road back to where I live.

And I walk past all these houses that look just like yours, and in every window I see the face of a male that smiles right at me. As I get ready to drop my bag and jump into your big arms I realise that that smile isn't yours, and quickly I move on. As my feet scuttle through the old town the dust begins to build up in my eyes and fall to the floor. I try catch it as it pours out but it falls from my hands because I begin to miss you more and more.

My father looks out of the door and exclaims quietly that it is raining dust outside. As I stand behind him I express my surprise that such a odd thing should occur on such a normal day in such a normal town. He sighs and turns away, remembering the time that his eyes would rain dust. I can see his chest beating with the old dream that her dusty hand was still around to hold his dusty face.

I run to my bedroom and hide under my bed where I have stored many things to occupy my mind. In the collection of books and beehive of clothes I can see the smile of all my photos. Friends from my past and future that tell me to stop being a sentimental jumble. So I put some music on and rest my travel worn head.

You told me that you're parents used to listen to this album when they first moved in together, telling me that it made them cry. And when you said it you created the prettiest smile, and my mind went back to the pretend past of when your parents were as young as us. When they used to dance on their kitchen floor and talk about the future with no worries that they would ever be the past. And they looked just like me and you, and we held hands.

I asked you what we would listen to when we first lived together. In our little house with intricate leaves weaving their way up our walls and roof, trying to capture some of that love that was seeping out. And in your overflowing eyes I saw the picture of you, me and Joni Mitchell, living happily ever after in the most dust-free of houses.