oh fucking hell
enjoys sarcasm, gigs, black and white films, stephen king, having a ridiculous amount of cats, lovely friends, boyf, scary piercings, will ferrall and summer
a risky decision it always is,
to pick the film you all know was his.
baited breath awaits the title,
and tears in your throat are always vital.
the actors, oh,
you know them well,
and for Robin’s eyes we inevitably fell.
the actors’ voices, when they start,
their movements, phrases,
we know by heart.
it’s almost done now, the end is nigh,
only a few minutes more shall you have to lie
about how this film is not tearing you apart,
you said it was alright but it’s breaking your heart.
the credits begin.
it’s over, you’ve won
all of turmoil is finally done.
a stolen moment to relive the enviable past,
the memories, the movies,
all finished so fast.
an oblivious outlook on the world as we knew it,
the memories, the movies
escaping us to it.