it's like I've been moving in slow motion
caught somewhere between dreams & what's real
eyes open, eyes closed
as they flutter open
I wonder...
when dreams and reality are to come
together
the way I lose my breath
the thought,
the mere idea, memory, desire
your hands on the small of my back
your lips
I remember,
and, too, sadly, I forget,
and I hope
and I
dream.
I hear melodies, old and new, too
they remind me,
entice me,
help me dream...
But, is it a dream?
is it memories?
My memories and dreams,
they're one in the same.
It did happen,
it could happen,
will it happen?
I'm not waiting,
and I'm
waiting.
I don't care,
and I care so much.
I'm too busy for you,
and I'm always thinking of you.
Your words,
they have left,
they still leave,
they will leave,
a mark on my heart.
I think of your face,
your lips
your hands,
your laugh,
your voice,
but most of all...
I think of your words.
Words is what
we always exchange.
Almost like,
sometimes I think,
we have our own language.
Language.
Years spent studying it,
writing,
yet your words,
they are
the most
immaculate.
You've said,
and you say,
so many things.
I get it all.
I hold onto each syllable,
written and oral,
they all touch me alike.
I am captivated
by you--
your thoughts,
your mind.
It is your spirit,
unbridled,
that won me.
The thoughts you store,
a complex man
in a world too stipple to understand
him.
Often he has been a lone wolf.
Often he has struggled,
yet he was never defeated.
You have transformed,
as a caterpillar does into
a butterfly...
You now are transformed
into a man with a past,
with wisdom,
with baggage,
with an impendium of knowledge,
with a story...
It is this story, this very story,
these words,
they have won me,
taken their arms,
held me,
taken me in,
engulfed me.
You.
Your story.
Your words.
All of it.
I would listen,
hear,
read,
ponder,
comprehend,
analyze,
forever.
Apr 19, 2014
Apr 19, 2014 at 8:02 PM UTC
it's like I've been moving in slow motion
caught somewhere between dreams & what's real
eyes open, eyes closed
as they flutter open
I wonder...
when dreams and reality are to come
together
the way I lose my breath
the thought,
the mere idea, memory, desire
your hands on the small of my back
your lips
I remember,
and, too, sadly, I forget,
and I hope
and I
dream.
I hear melodies, old and new, too
they remind me,
entice me,
help me dream...
But, is it a dream?
is it memories?
My memories and dreams,
they're one in the same.
It did happen,
it could happen,
will it happen?
I'm not waiting,
and I'm
waiting.
I don't care,
and I care so much.
I'm too busy for you,
and I'm always thinking of you.
Your words,
they have left,
they still leave,
they will leave,
a mark on my heart.
I think of your face,
your lips
your hands,
your laugh,
your voice,
but most of all...
I think of your words.
Words is what
we always exchange.
Almost like,
sometimes I think,
we have our own language.
Language.
Years spent studying it,
writing,
yet your words,
they are
the most
immaculate.
You've said,
and you say,
so many things.
I get it all.
I hold onto each syllable,
written and oral,
they all touch me alike.
I am captivated
by you--
your thoughts,
your mind.
It is your spirit,
unbridled,
that won me.
The thoughts you store,
a complex man
in a world too stipple to understand
him.
Often he has been a lone wolf.
Often he has struggled,
yet he was never defeated.
You have transformed,
as a caterpillar does into
a butterfly...
You now are transformed
into a man with a past,
with wisdom,
with baggage,
with an impendium of knowledge,
with a story...
It is this story, this very story,
these words,
they have won me,
taken their arms,
held me,
taken me in,
engulfed me.
You.
Your story.
Your words.
All of it.
I would listen,
hear,
read,
ponder,
comprehend,
analyze,
forever.
