Grown-up Waltz

1 min read

By Robert Andersson

Illustration: Amelie Lutz

Hi my darling, how was your day?

What happened at work, is your boss okay?

Let’s avoid what I think, and continue pretend,

It’s partially cloudy and I hate your best friend

Don’t say ‘can we talk’, I’m not ready to hear,

What I already know, I’m in angst and fear

Do not risk our present, do not risk our past,

Let me keep my belief, that we can outlast

I love you, by the weight of my heart,

I don’t want to risk, our present and our past

I wish I dared to tell you all,

I hope it will not be our fall

When I tried to tell you the situation,

I couldn’t control my hesitation

I pushed for the words that wouldn’t come out,

I crashed inside with scream and shout

Gestures are numb, and air is thick,

The wall can fall, by one more brick

Rumbling news to avoid the cold, 

The TV fills the frighting void

The leader of some prominent land,

Accuses a college, of deceitful hand

What is true and what is false?

Shall we dance, the Grown-up Waltz?

I read your text, that you meet another,

If that were true, why would I bother

Last night you cried, for forgiveness and love, 

Roll in the mud, as a forgotten glove

Deep in the bathroom mirror I look,

I won the game, you’re on my hook

I take you home, but hold you on distance,

Keep you hanging, break down resistance

Your consciousness, soon has dried,

Do you even know I lied?

You still believe, your thoughts are free,

I cultivate minds, you’re my bonsai tree

Your smile can cause the world to faint,

With lips of an angel, and eyes of a saint

You always say those words of pleasure,

You always act with cold-heart measure

I gave you my word, to always be faithful,

Be honest and kind, but you are disgraceful

I cannot leave, and I cannot stay,

For your love, with freedom I pay

Gestures are numb, and air is thick,

The wall can fall, by one more brick

Another prophet on the TV cries,

That honesty is but the sum of lies

Are prophets wise, or are there still hope,

Can we be better, avoid our slope?

Are we true, or are we false?

Shall we dance, the Grown-up Waltz?

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