something more than love
_i love the way your eyes make me feel. fresh, luxurious, like new silk borne of butterflies. like your lust begs you to grab me, but your manners offer your arm. our dainty frames surf sweat, all the worlds energies rising skyward and we ride it, this wave of nothing practical, with our fingers entwined; swinging into the rafters and running our hands across the face of the moon. we always seem to get our arms caught in our sleeves and each other, as shooting stars fall from our lips to burn Paris to the ground in rampant, smouldering tides; and we take another drag and breathe out the London fog.
_"we don't need anywhere but the sky" you'll say, dipping your hands into forever's ink to paint me an impossibility full of satin gowns and macaroni seagulls, before taking my hand ( our inks mix! you gasp; and your loose lips sink nobel ships, ma cheré ) and drag me Titanic into dustbin playgrounds with bullshit names.
_or we could just stay home and watch movies from the floor, letting our palm-bloods mix into a puddle of emoticon innocence ( or lack-of-sense ) spilt on champangue super-never carpet with a poor french accent and creamsicle hairspray.
_"we don't need anywhere but the sky" you'll say, dipping your hands into forever's ink to paint me an impossibility full of satin gowns and macaroni seagulls, before taking my hand ( our inks mix! you gasp; and your loose lips sink nobel ships, ma cheré ) and drag me Titanic into dustbin playgrounds with bullshit names.
_or we could just stay home and watch movies from the floor, letting our palm-bloods mix into a puddle of emoticon innocence ( or lack-of-sense ) spilt on champangue super-never carpet with a poor french accent and creamsicle hairspray.