Will there be evidence of us specifically?
I want to vanish.
I want to be a mystery.
I want to be a whisper, maybe a photo, definitely a faded painting.
I want to be a lyric in a B-side.
I want to have the end of my life be undiscoverable.
No dates.
Just a number of fascinating moments that were vaguely recorded somewhere,
With no one around to confirm their accuracy.
I want to be smiles and tears and forgotten first names.
I want to be initials and keepsakes and glamourized adventures.
I want to be initials and keepsakes and glamourized adventures.
I want to be a sneeze in a hot shower that makes the skin tighten and bump up.
I want to be created later; fictionalized for finality's sake because in order to have a finish I have to be written.
And I want you to be in love with what I maybe might have been.
All of that endless possibility.
