You have stolen my heart
Summer romances are suppose to live forever. The warmth of the sun, the sound, the hiss and crash of the water into the shore are suppose to cement those feelings, that bliss so - despite the nip in the air, the transition of the warm sun into a cold one - things are suppose to remain intact. When the leaves on the trees turn to a different shade, when they wither and turn in on themselves - giving up the ghost to be torn from limbs and thrown on to the ground, we are suppose to remember warm green foliage that filtered sunlight through its arms on to the ground and the two bodies laying on the sweet, cool grass.
When everything turns gray and cold, and the whole world seems to shut down and turn in on it's self - we are suppose to remember trying to eat ice cream cones as quickly as possible, before it was nothing more then soup. Sticky messes on dirty fingers, chocolate on the tip of your nose or on your upper lip. Laughter amongst the ice and sugar that was the only relief on a day when the temperature reached nearly ninety-degrees. Riding bikes as fast as you can down smooth paved lanes - pumping hard and fast until you could just let go, releasing the handles and the petals so you were flying through space. Houses, trees, flying past - until everything was a blur and if you closed your eyes you could swear that the whole world just fell away, leaving you breathless and flushed.
Days at the beach - warm towels baking in the sun, waiting to be used to wipe off the water that turned icey as soon as you left it. Feeling the sand between your fingers and your toes, silky grains, infinite and forever - multiplying and cosmic. Laying in the soft grains, floating away as the sun burned over head - coating everything in a blanket of warmth and security. Those afternoons in front of the big white house with the screened in porch, running through the grass in bare feet, screaming and dodging the hands of the enemy as the wind blew through the trees and up the beach to spin you around till you dropped to the ground. Fallen. Exhausted. An Angel that had fallen to earth after the most glorious trip to the moon.
Screaming with friends at the fireworks display on the fourth of july. Millions of gems exploding into millions of shards, flaring, shining against the blackness of night - lasting for a million years before fading away and falling to earth. Little souls of light, flashing, exploding, dying all in the blink of an eye. Beauty against the background of complete nothingness. So far away, but so close to touch - raining down on the heads of children who ran around, their hands held up high as if they could grab and catch the dying sparks. The smell of smoke, the empty skeleton of the dead light - floating across the sky until they seemed more like clouds then the last remains of something beautiful and glorious. Drifting, drifting, until there is nothing but inky blackness once more.
When the stars shine, when you can hear the cicadas, grabbing on to trees - chirping, clinging as they slowly die, leaving nothing but another empty shell. Dancing in the dark, muffled laughter as the rest of the world is asleep except you. That beautiful smell of the world settling, of dark, damp earth that clings to your nose and hair. Laying - spread out on the bed of slowly cooling cement - watching the night clouds pass, the faint light from the light house on another island. Leading, beckoning the ships, warning of dangers, of the dark hidden rocks - the stormy shores that reach out to grab, to suck them into the unknown.
That infinite water - so close, so welcoming, yearning to pull limbs under, to hold them close, cradling them until there's nothing left. The only noise is the cosmic heartbeat of the world, thumping, pounding, consuming, never ending - so that even if you managed to escape that beat was always there. Whenever you closed your eyes, whenever you took a deep breath. So when you closed your eyes you could still feel the rocking of the waves, the gentle caress of the water over your body.
All this was suppose to keep that love alive. These memories, those feelings, those smells, touches, tastes, longings, desires of the heart. A magic spell that was suppose to last - like beauty's sleep. Forever until the prince wakes her up once again - with a gentle kiss. Despite everything, the faith in the memories, in the people and the warmth that bound us together - that wake up kiss came too soon. The sun turned cold, and instead of a gentle breeze - the air was like ice, gripping and tearing everything apart in it's path. The ground turned cold, the grass brittle and dull. The water turned into razor blades and cut down anything that touched it - violent against the sand and shore, slamming into the rocks, tearing down everything that got in it's way.
No ice cream, no fire works, no sweet innocence of kisses stolen in the dark. The world got another year older, and so did we. And the next year things weren't the same, the dark didn't hold as much mystery, kisses became tinged with lust - darker as the real nature of the beast lurked closer to the surface. The big white house with the screened in porch lost it's charm as new fashion and the latest bands became more important then laughing and catching fire flies. We were just kids that aged a life time over the winter, and once you open your eyes - you can never shut them again. Once you know that it's just an illusion you can't see the magic in every soft breeze, in every blade of grass, and every grain of sand.
The world got too serious and we got too serious along with it - and now, so many years have past that there is never any hope of going back. We are too old, too tired for the magic and the mystery. We know the real world waits for us and all we want to do is go back. As if we could claw and tear our way through the muck and the bullshit to reach those simple moments of bliss. We have lost our hearts, and our souls, and we didn't even know it. We are the forgotten children on the warmth and the sun - lost and dejected in a world full of ice and snow.
We fell from heaven - and we never knew what we had until we finally hit terra firma.
You have stolen my heart.
When everything turns gray and cold, and the whole world seems to shut down and turn in on it's self - we are suppose to remember trying to eat ice cream cones as quickly as possible, before it was nothing more then soup. Sticky messes on dirty fingers, chocolate on the tip of your nose or on your upper lip. Laughter amongst the ice and sugar that was the only relief on a day when the temperature reached nearly ninety-degrees. Riding bikes as fast as you can down smooth paved lanes - pumping hard and fast until you could just let go, releasing the handles and the petals so you were flying through space. Houses, trees, flying past - until everything was a blur and if you closed your eyes you could swear that the whole world just fell away, leaving you breathless and flushed.
Days at the beach - warm towels baking in the sun, waiting to be used to wipe off the water that turned icey as soon as you left it. Feeling the sand between your fingers and your toes, silky grains, infinite and forever - multiplying and cosmic. Laying in the soft grains, floating away as the sun burned over head - coating everything in a blanket of warmth and security. Those afternoons in front of the big white house with the screened in porch, running through the grass in bare feet, screaming and dodging the hands of the enemy as the wind blew through the trees and up the beach to spin you around till you dropped to the ground. Fallen. Exhausted. An Angel that had fallen to earth after the most glorious trip to the moon.
Screaming with friends at the fireworks display on the fourth of july. Millions of gems exploding into millions of shards, flaring, shining against the blackness of night - lasting for a million years before fading away and falling to earth. Little souls of light, flashing, exploding, dying all in the blink of an eye. Beauty against the background of complete nothingness. So far away, but so close to touch - raining down on the heads of children who ran around, their hands held up high as if they could grab and catch the dying sparks. The smell of smoke, the empty skeleton of the dead light - floating across the sky until they seemed more like clouds then the last remains of something beautiful and glorious. Drifting, drifting, until there is nothing but inky blackness once more.
When the stars shine, when you can hear the cicadas, grabbing on to trees - chirping, clinging as they slowly die, leaving nothing but another empty shell. Dancing in the dark, muffled laughter as the rest of the world is asleep except you. That beautiful smell of the world settling, of dark, damp earth that clings to your nose and hair. Laying - spread out on the bed of slowly cooling cement - watching the night clouds pass, the faint light from the light house on another island. Leading, beckoning the ships, warning of dangers, of the dark hidden rocks - the stormy shores that reach out to grab, to suck them into the unknown.
That infinite water - so close, so welcoming, yearning to pull limbs under, to hold them close, cradling them until there's nothing left. The only noise is the cosmic heartbeat of the world, thumping, pounding, consuming, never ending - so that even if you managed to escape that beat was always there. Whenever you closed your eyes, whenever you took a deep breath. So when you closed your eyes you could still feel the rocking of the waves, the gentle caress of the water over your body.
All this was suppose to keep that love alive. These memories, those feelings, those smells, touches, tastes, longings, desires of the heart. A magic spell that was suppose to last - like beauty's sleep. Forever until the prince wakes her up once again - with a gentle kiss. Despite everything, the faith in the memories, in the people and the warmth that bound us together - that wake up kiss came too soon. The sun turned cold, and instead of a gentle breeze - the air was like ice, gripping and tearing everything apart in it's path. The ground turned cold, the grass brittle and dull. The water turned into razor blades and cut down anything that touched it - violent against the sand and shore, slamming into the rocks, tearing down everything that got in it's way.
No ice cream, no fire works, no sweet innocence of kisses stolen in the dark. The world got another year older, and so did we. And the next year things weren't the same, the dark didn't hold as much mystery, kisses became tinged with lust - darker as the real nature of the beast lurked closer to the surface. The big white house with the screened in porch lost it's charm as new fashion and the latest bands became more important then laughing and catching fire flies. We were just kids that aged a life time over the winter, and once you open your eyes - you can never shut them again. Once you know that it's just an illusion you can't see the magic in every soft breeze, in every blade of grass, and every grain of sand.
The world got too serious and we got too serious along with it - and now, so many years have past that there is never any hope of going back. We are too old, too tired for the magic and the mystery. We know the real world waits for us and all we want to do is go back. As if we could claw and tear our way through the muck and the bullshit to reach those simple moments of bliss. We have lost our hearts, and our souls, and we didn't even know it. We are the forgotten children on the warmth and the sun - lost and dejected in a world full of ice and snow.
We fell from heaven - and we never knew what we had until we finally hit terra firma.
You have stolen my heart.