The Wistful Thinking Of The Hidden Boys

I walked into the room while thinking of our little story
I should have written it down
If only on my stain covered sleeve
I should have turned it into a song
And whistled it to the wind
You seemed to have it transcribed onto a look
An expression close to criminal intent
A cross between lust and hate and docile integrity
It's a joke I suppose, left out to sprout in the sun
There was a way I could have left
Yet no way out but through that door
Its like trying to understand why a smell reminds you of love
Why a certain pair of eyes reminded you of night
Is it cruel to give someone else Your love?
It was built for You, it has Your dedication written on the title page
But You shall not receive
The lost mention of the peppermint grind
Your eyes were so dark all I could see were the reflections of the street lamps
It will be your story I carry
Though I know someone else will get to hear the ending
I was just the start
Though I did give you courage
To walk through the forrest, pick out a tree and climb high to wave your flag
I'm lazy, I suppose, so lazy I sometimes forget our stance
And It's only now I am trying to recall the walls we climbed
This is not too clever, but it's true
I've always been mindful of where I hide our memory
The cafe in which there is no trace of sadness is the place best suited
And when I look at those years- the fat ones and the lean ones
All I see is the lost mention of the peppermint grind
The wistful thinking of the hidden boy
We were the army that got defeated by youth's turning table
All the while we were locked in the room 111
With our ghosts, and our lust and the things we never said
I've tried to wonder if our fates will walk together again
But I understand that it's all so strange, you are a story teller, but no poet
Our memories are merely stuck at that place between waking and sleeping
Lucky I still have your jacket to remind me, but the pockets are empty
If we were soldiers we would perhaps have had a chance to prove ourselves to each other
If we were soldiers we could have died in each other's arms
As it was we merely watched television and smiled warmly
And watched as our love died alone in the corner
We were neither of us soldiers
So no one fought for it
And now we sit in our trees waiting as summer comes again
Watching our chances come and go like the birds
And the wistful thinking of hidden boys
It wears them out
So before you get too tired
Know you are always welcome in my tree
Let the smell of the bellflower lead your way