Jan 2013
I’m whirling with two feet above the ground, I am lost, I am found. I am held, tantalised by your merry-go-round. And there is a sweetness to your skin, not known before. Sometimes I wonder what you’re fighting for. Confused. Your weakness is my gift. I appreciate your beauty. In the sunlight. Sometimes I can’t handle you being there, because you know too much, and I see it in your hands.
Another day comes up and we stay til the stars are bright reflecting in our eyes. When we sat on the scaffolding naked outside the house. We talked. We kissed. I dreamed of your reflection in the music I kissed. Your eyes they care nothing for me, they take delight in what they can’t see. And you are a poem in all that I write, you, I take away from the dark as it leads to the night. She, you must understand, is beauty divine, by the second hand. My love for her, is deep and wide. She is a beauty to be beheld by my side. I can’t hold her hand for I fear she will let go, even though, I know. She will never, never walk away. Lay your head down on my knee, my sweet, let me run my hands through your hair and tell me about your day.
Twisted by a mirror, running from the gun, you feel my heart is bled and numb. In the mentality of the situation, my words are futile to your ears, I could tell you ever-y-thing, I could tell you my innate fears. And yet I know, just by looking at your face, that I am saved, and this is why I cannot let myself. Fall. Wanting, needing, desiring for that something, that nothing that we all hunger for. I always be here, by your side, ready for the ride. God I laugh for it is benign that I should choose to think, you only want me after a drink. Or two.
She walks across the room and there is a whisper in the air. A wanton look, a wanton glare. Everyone turns to see, to see she is looking at me. I tell you, I tell you, oh man, I. TELL. YOU. To be the object of her affection, to be her means and her every objection, it cuts the very core. Of me. To feel her hand touch mine, her eyes stare at mine; this is what it feels to fly and be free. And I know I have sung this song before, many a love story, many a war; and there is many a lover to curtail the night, but this path I will not fight. This road I will eagerly strap my indiscretions to my back and joyfully skip in the sun. Because I do not want to give my heart away. Today.
Is there music when she plays with me? I think there is. There is no weighty stare. From her. She seems to know, she seems to have sought me out. And no matter how much I scream and shout, she is there. She is there. For I am something, if I was nothing before. And I have an embrace, a secret code, that only I should know. But it gets distracted from the one-trick-pony-show. Thank you, thank you; Thank. You. No-one can make this moment feel a lifetime like you, and yes I give you your due. Please don’t try so hard, my silence is unmanned, do not confuse me with futile supply and demand. Sometimes what I am trying to say, is nothing. At all.
Another day comes up and we stay til the stars are bright reflecting in our eyes. When we sat on the scaffolding naked outside the house. We talked. We kissed. I dreamed of your reflection in the music I kissed. Your eyes they care nothing for me, they take delight in what they can’t see. And you are a poem in all that I write, you, I take away from the dark as it leads to the night. She, you must understand, is beauty divine, by the second hand. My love for her, is deep and wide. She is a beauty to be beheld by my side. I can’t hold her hand for I fear she will let go, even though, I know. She will never, never walk away. Lay your head down on my knee, my sweet, let me run my hands through your hair and tell me about your day.
Twisted by a mirror, running from the gun, you feel my heart is bled and numb. In the mentality of the situation, my words are futile to your ears, I could tell you ever-y-thing, I could tell you my innate fears. And yet I know, just by looking at your face, that I am saved, and this is why I cannot let myself. Fall. Wanting, needing, desiring for that something, that nothing that we all hunger for. I always be here, by your side, ready for the ride. God I laugh for it is benign that I should choose to think, you only want me after a drink. Or two.
She walks across the room and there is a whisper in the air. A wanton look, a wanton glare. Everyone turns to see, to see she is looking at me. I tell you, I tell you, oh man, I. TELL. YOU. To be the object of her affection, to be her means and her every objection, it cuts the very core. Of me. To feel her hand touch mine, her eyes stare at mine; this is what it feels to fly and be free. And I know I have sung this song before, many a love story, many a war; and there is many a lover to curtail the night, but this path I will not fight. This road I will eagerly strap my indiscretions to my back and joyfully skip in the sun. Because I do not want to give my heart away. Today.
Is there music when she plays with me? I think there is. There is no weighty stare. From her. She seems to know, she seems to have sought me out. And no matter how much I scream and shout, she is there. She is there. For I am something, if I was nothing before. And I have an embrace, a secret code, that only I should know. But it gets distracted from the one-trick-pony-show. Thank you, thank you; Thank. You. No-one can make this moment feel a lifetime like you, and yes I give you your due. Please don’t try so hard, my silence is unmanned, do not confuse me with futile supply and demand. Sometimes what I am trying to say, is nothing. At all.
