Intermission
I've spent 12 months
in the comfort of the warmth
of your perfumed breath
on the back of my neck
whispering words
that
I wish I could hear
for the rest of my life,
sickening to think that each
syllable
was only just a sound.
I remember how much warmer
the air felt last April
when you stayed with me
untill the early hours
3 a.m
just talking
flowing
infusing
all our thoughts
and that night
the clocks went forward
and we both
missed
an hours sleep
I'd do anything
to turn them back a year.
We where up all night
bodies too nervous
and mouths too dry
to talk any longer
so tension dictated we kissed
and my thoughts at that time
where fantasy and hunger
for future perfection
the pale skin obsession
angelically beautiful
sadistically luring to love.
The current of enthusiasm
when we where connected
surrendering all
to your sense of presence
which later was discarded when the power had faded
was time responsible or did the source
not hold the correct voltage?
Or is it all just perfectly fine
and the units are just
a little bit heated?
Like machinery
we all need a break.
In your mind is it broken
or in need of destroying
what seems like perfection
when written on paper
but doesn't quite read with legibility
when viewed under the blind
naked eye.
I created an environment
and filled it with all
the most beautiful things
I could find
and offered it all to you
wanting nothing in return
but to witness your pleasure
and to love every moment
I felt we where living
as a united foundation
of personal cosmos.
Shadows and reflections
are covering my eyes
making me squit to discover
any previously unseen
indications
of anything I could have done better
and what's left is a folded
atlas of the year
with torn edges
on thin paper that has become
discoloured by the sun
which has set behind the clouds
and the clouds
hold
the forecast for
the year.
On long car journeys
narrow, curving country roads
into demos
of the paths that
we could have taken
conversations
beyond all insecurity
reflections of security
in a cacoon
of insincerity
which later was discarded
for invisible portraits
or everything that offered
qualities of me
but not me.
On long haul journeys
into foreign places
the faces
encountered
where only annoyances
comparing to the imagery
present of you
in my head.
The beauty of the beaches
the romance of the waters
where only facades
of love and enjoyment
loss locked and empty
when my memories are only
shadows in the bedroom
we spent so many hours
your presence outweighed
the rush of the mountains
in the most beautiful place
that I have ever been
you have
the most beautiful face
that I
have ever
seen.
I've spent 12 months
in the comfort of the warmth
of your perfumed breath
on the back of my neck
whispering words
that
I wish I could hear
for the rest of my life,
sickening to think that each
syllable
was only just a sound.
I remember how much warmer
the air felt last April
when you stayed with me
untill the early hours
3 a.m
just talking
flowing
infusing
all our thoughts
and that night
the clocks went forward
and we both
missed
an hours sleep
I'd do anything
to turn them back a year.
We where up all night
bodies too nervous
and mouths too dry
to talk any longer
so tension dictated we kissed
and my thoughts at that time
where fantasy and hunger
for future perfection
the pale skin obsession
angelically beautiful
sadistically luring to love.
The current of enthusiasm
when we where connected
surrendering all
to your sense of presence
which later was discarded when the power had faded
was time responsible or did the source
not hold the correct voltage?
Or is it all just perfectly fine
and the units are just
a little bit heated?
Like machinery
we all need a break.
In your mind is it broken
or in need of destroying
what seems like perfection
when written on paper
but doesn't quite read with legibility
when viewed under the blind
naked eye.
I created an environment
and filled it with all
the most beautiful things
I could find
and offered it all to you
wanting nothing in return
but to witness your pleasure
and to love every moment
I felt we where living
as a united foundation
of personal cosmos.
Shadows and reflections
are covering my eyes
making me squit to discover
any previously unseen
indications
of anything I could have done better
and what's left is a folded
atlas of the year
with torn edges
on thin paper that has become
discoloured by the sun
which has set behind the clouds
and the clouds
hold
the forecast for
the year.
On long car journeys
narrow, curving country roads
into demos
of the paths that
we could have taken
conversations
beyond all insecurity
reflections of security
in a cacoon
of insincerity
which later was discarded
for invisible portraits
or everything that offered
qualities of me
but not me.
On long haul journeys
into foreign places
the faces
encountered
where only annoyances
comparing to the imagery
present of you
in my head.
The beauty of the beaches
the romance of the waters
where only facades
of love and enjoyment
loss locked and empty
when my memories are only
shadows in the bedroom
we spent so many hours
your presence outweighed
the rush of the mountains
in the most beautiful place
that I have ever been
you have
the most beautiful face
that I
have ever
seen.
