I was dead, by that river, that night, at the dam,
My heart is now beating as to the rhythm of
your heart,
to the pulse of your words, you say and not say,
and to your whispers I hear and not hear.
At nights it stops, when you depart,
When we run out of words, It beats slow,
as if I've ran out of breath,
and I slip to the other world,
where we speak without words, our own world, beyond words, language and gestures.
When we can't bear the
untouchable presence anymore,
the beautifully frustrating absence anymore,
not anymore it beats.
It stops.
When all the love and lust and craving for
eachother becomes an overwhelming bursting of tears inside out of our hearts and minds,
when our worlds collapse,
when we're helplessly falling to sleep,
Though not hopeless for a sweet dream,
my heart stops beating,
my body goes numb and soul begins the journey,
Lips cracks, missing your tenderness
which I've never tasted.
Willing not to give up, my body seeks
the aid of the dreams, to stay alive till a new dawn, to hold back soul's journey.
As the dreams fade I wake up to your morning.
It has become a routine.
And That's how I stay alive.
To be near you.
To beat as a heart.
To be the wave in your oceans.
To reach for a sight of your shores.
That's why I stay alive.
And this is how you keep me alive.