(no subject)
I think of you in gray, my
love. I think of you in the tones of
rainfall and cement. I think of you in
caged embraces, with hands clutching dusty air.
I often think of you from a distance, so that I can barely make out your
face, and you walk by, small and insignificant as I strain to make out your
stone cold expression. Guitars are
playing a tuneless crying dance and my led legs walk in line with yours. I see you in blurry film and in hazed nights
under covers alone. And I fear your
thoughts passing over me because I do not want the untruth exposed. I fear my possibilities and I fear what my
gaping heart may see.
You hide from me, like a child who has betrayed his mother. It is all I can hear in the silence between us. And we step to and aside, with smoke on our tongues, and wonder what may happen if we did our part. There is no sound like gray, my love. No sound like what does not transpire. Cover my eyes, let me lie down and not know it. Shaking hands and breath on my neck and a tentative letting go of some summer night when we thought it would be fun.
This is some kind of longing; some kind of wishing. Some kinds of gesture play a staying in a running away. We are keeping still and not approaching the questions though we have stated the answers and held hands when I was letting go. And we walked on streets; had breakfast in the window putting on a show that told lies about racing minds that cannot begin to explain. And sending waves I send the screams I send the pain I send the lying awake dreaming dreams and it is just little moments when I falter that I really allow for the colour to show through.
What I think is not true. Dismantled, the feelings do not stand the pressure of this bitter stare. Claw clutched eyelids leave me alone. The pieces of skin grow tough in my mouth. I know my silence would wash you to me, my decision leave you bare.
You hide from me, like a child who has betrayed his mother. It is all I can hear in the silence between us. And we step to and aside, with smoke on our tongues, and wonder what may happen if we did our part. There is no sound like gray, my love. No sound like what does not transpire. Cover my eyes, let me lie down and not know it. Shaking hands and breath on my neck and a tentative letting go of some summer night when we thought it would be fun.
This is some kind of longing; some kind of wishing. Some kinds of gesture play a staying in a running away. We are keeping still and not approaching the questions though we have stated the answers and held hands when I was letting go. And we walked on streets; had breakfast in the window putting on a show that told lies about racing minds that cannot begin to explain. And sending waves I send the screams I send the pain I send the lying awake dreaming dreams and it is just little moments when I falter that I really allow for the colour to show through.
What I think is not true. Dismantled, the feelings do not stand the pressure of this bitter stare. Claw clutched eyelids leave me alone. The pieces of skin grow tough in my mouth. I know my silence would wash you to me, my decision leave you bare.