Your touch is like an icicle on the back of my neck
and it not cool and refreshing,
like the fresh side of the pillow.
It's hollow and haunting.
It does not soothe me,
nor does it make me believe
that my adoration is reciprocated.
it's telling me to leave.
Each word you utter has an underlying sadness
brought on by the past that you cannot escape.
I want you and i want you to feel the same,
but your intentions are turning an intangible shape.
If only my warmth would melt your touch
and allow you to drip into a transparent drop,
lingering on the ground for me to see
that I should really not care for you so much.
But this is my thing,
I try to change what I see,
what displeases me,
into what I want it to be.
For now you are blue,
and I am red with fire.
And I turn purple holding my breath
for you to match my desire.
Comments
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If only the world could be reshaped, and all its energies reharnnessed, like in a dream that you know is a dream....but then again, i've always heard (from idiots?), that a perfect world would be boring.
(i think) The second worst thing about love, is that you can neither control its creation, nor its power.
It's like wishing for a cool breeze on a hot summer day, and getting a catagory one million hurricane instead sometimes.
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