(no subject)
outside
the snow will melt where you wrote my name
where you smoke your cigarettes.
"it's a bad habit. don't start it. but i'll get you to try it."
but you have no idea
my addiction is worse than nicotine
or coffee laced with caffeine stimulants
no, it's much worse
and better at the same time
if you ignore the symptoms:
loneliness, hunger, cold hands, and empty beds
compulsive daydreaming.
but don't you ever get tired of dreaming?
so when you step out of that tv screen,
when your microphone voice stops echoing over phone lines,
when the proximity between shrinks so much i can smell you,
and your pictures turn 3D,
i will touch you,
just to make sure that you're tangible.
the morning after, we'll wake up
in a place where alarm clocks and watches mean nothing to us
besides superfluous accessories for our nightstand.
time is extinct.
now i measure the day by the number of times your heart beats
and for everytime you blink,
at the risk of sounding cliché,
and for a lack of better phrases
i want to whisper that i love you,
and convince you that i mean it,
because this time,
i mean it.
i adore you. just like this.
the way you look
when the sun peels your eyelids open
and your hair falls in your eyes.
glamorous, natural, beatiful.
an apology from me
i meant to make you breakfast
but i couldn't drag my body out of this bed.
i was too hypnotized by your breathing.
and then there's me.
no make up.
just me.
but then, why are you still here?
why aren't you confused?
i'm afraid to look in the mirror.
so i fumble between the sheets for your hand
trace it so many times i've got your fingerprints memorized.
"so this is what it feels like..."
you think
to wake up beside a girl
sober
remember her name
and not feel guilty
"so this is what it feels like..."
i think
to wake up next to a guy
who didn't leave in the middle of the night
recognizes you
and stopped your life of one-night stands.
and we'll stay comatose in this bed for days,
counting heartbeats
and naming the stars outside our window.
this feels better than any secret affair.
this is romance at its best.
ps. i've got a blank canvas, i'm saving to share with you.
let's paint this world together.
please?
-courtesty of Patricia.
the snow will melt where you wrote my name
where you smoke your cigarettes.
"it's a bad habit. don't start it. but i'll get you to try it."
but you have no idea
my addiction is worse than nicotine
or coffee laced with caffeine stimulants
no, it's much worse
and better at the same time
if you ignore the symptoms:
loneliness, hunger, cold hands, and empty beds
compulsive daydreaming.
but don't you ever get tired of dreaming?
so when you step out of that tv screen,
when your microphone voice stops echoing over phone lines,
when the proximity between shrinks so much i can smell you,
and your pictures turn 3D,
i will touch you,
just to make sure that you're tangible.
the morning after, we'll wake up
in a place where alarm clocks and watches mean nothing to us
besides superfluous accessories for our nightstand.
time is extinct.
now i measure the day by the number of times your heart beats
and for everytime you blink,
at the risk of sounding cliché,
and for a lack of better phrases
i want to whisper that i love you,
and convince you that i mean it,
because this time,
i mean it.
i adore you. just like this.
the way you look
when the sun peels your eyelids open
and your hair falls in your eyes.
glamorous, natural, beatiful.
an apology from me
i meant to make you breakfast
but i couldn't drag my body out of this bed.
i was too hypnotized by your breathing.
and then there's me.
no make up.
just me.
but then, why are you still here?
why aren't you confused?
i'm afraid to look in the mirror.
so i fumble between the sheets for your hand
trace it so many times i've got your fingerprints memorized.
"so this is what it feels like..."
you think
to wake up beside a girl
sober
remember her name
and not feel guilty
"so this is what it feels like..."
i think
to wake up next to a guy
who didn't leave in the middle of the night
recognizes you
and stopped your life of one-night stands.
and we'll stay comatose in this bed for days,
counting heartbeats
and naming the stars outside our window.
this feels better than any secret affair.
this is romance at its best.
ps. i've got a blank canvas, i'm saving to share with you.
let's paint this world together.
please?
-courtesty of Patricia.