Let it come, the memories, which come
up in broken waves, of times too fragile to
capture in rash stories. Moments that
fade within thoughts that try to keep
near; the image of you, words attached to
fragmentary pictures. I remember brown eyes behind
glasses, while in contemplation, and that how in
silence, one tried to examine the features on
my inside. Lying down, looking up, into dazes and
blurry reflections. Can you tell the future by the
shine in my eyes and shape of my lips? I want to know what lies
beyond your clear brown eyes, though you seem to
read like an open book, I still see pages unread, appear
unwritten in unpainted ink. Where is the earnest, how does your
mind travel through dark open spaces? Can I deepen the
effect I have on you? Make it last, and have my
self succumb to more than just your touch, which does
ripple over me like ravenous waters. I want to
swim, though formally I’m not allowed to. Would you
let me see what is beyond that horizon, when I fall off the
world, will I dive into our pages then?
© 2005
Sep 14, 2013
Sep 14, 2013 at 6:35 PM UTC
Let it come, the memories, which come
up in broken waves, of times too fragile to
capture in rash stories. Moments that
fade within thoughts that try to keep
near; the image of you, words attached to
fragmentary pictures. I remember brown eyes behind
glasses, while in contemplation, and that how in
silence, one tried to examine the features on
my inside. Lying down, looking up, into dazes and
blurry reflections. Can you tell the future by the
shine in my eyes and shape of my lips? I want to know what lies
beyond your clear brown eyes, though you seem to
read like an open book, I still see pages unread, appear
unwritten in unpainted ink. Where is the earnest, how does your
mind travel through dark open spaces? Can I deepen the
effect I have on you? Make it last, and have my
self succumb to more than just your touch, which does
ripple over me like ravenous waters. I want to
swim, though formally I’m not allowed to. Would you
let me see what is beyond that horizon, when I fall off the
world, will I dive into our pages then?
© 2005
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