The Future (Letting Go)

I used to hold the future
in the palm of my hand.
I used to squeeze it tightly,
just to feel it grip my youth.
I used to hold the future,
but now it’s holding you.

She said the sunrise would not come back,
unless you begged it to.
She said the sun is feeling bitter,
for how you were looking at the moon.
She said we better make up soon,
or start burning candles in our bedroom.

I used to wear my past
as a cape around my neck.
Its black sticky surface
collected everything we met.
But its weight became too heavy
and I was choking on its mass.

So I cut the past to pieces
and wore the best parts that I liked.
But my past swells up every day,
so I have to clean it every night.

I used to hold the future,
but now it’s holding me.
It shakes me every morning.
It’s pinching off my dreams.
It whispers that I’m getting older
and that it might let go real soon.

I love the sunshine, baby.
I like it when you rise.
You make me feel so fevered
that I have to hide inside.
So do not feel jealous,
if the moon reminds me
of how you shine.

I used to be afraid
of what the future held for me.
I used to stay up late worried
and I used to bow my head to pray.
But now the sun has risen,
and it is the future that is afraid.

I am living for my final verdict—
and I will take the future to my grave.
I am living for the fashion—
and I am dying for the pay.

written on 11/12/2009 by: Matt Kane