The stars should be orange.
There’s a mole in the sky, taking careful steps northward.
A glass of wine loses its balance, painting the lawn red.
And nothing ever happens because we’re too tired to try and too scared to say what we feel. We just lie there, in a green sea of life, while we’re slowly dying on the inside.
Desperation calls our names as we dance in front of the moonlit horizon.
A heartbreaking melody guides our steps towards dangerous decisions.
But nothing ever happens because we’ve already sunk too far and we’ve always known that it would only make us happy for a second. We just talk about how easy it could be, and how hard it really is.
Maybe the best thing to do is to just let it go.
I think I’m strong enough for that.
Because nothing ever happens.