Read Your Mind.

Eye in the Sky

Jack of all trades.
Master of some.
Not this, though.
My left hand couldn't help me.
And my right hand wouldn't.


And obviously because this can't be an original idea- I'll tell you what inspired me.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-1IXQ1pKl_Q

You.

Your breath intoxicates- cinnamon and spice.
Your eyes pierce- a burnt black ice.
Your skin blooms- orange-blossom in spring.
Your voice warms- dripping honey within
My heart.

Flame joins flame
And starts a blazing fire.
Burning tear-drop
After tear-drop.
Eyes overwhelmed with desire.

Yearning for what I touch but can't seem to hold.
Lost and lonely firefly shut out in the bitter cold.

My mind soars free, unfettered, undeterred,
What you paint in colour,
I create now with words.

Well.

I wish there was a way I could write something new for you.
Something that has not been contaminated by the white anguish of my former self.
But I have nothing whole to offer you.
It scares me.
I know that what I’m opening myself up to has the potential to destroy me- once and for all.
Am I ready?

I must remember that this might be a dead end as well.
But something is growing inside of me.
Day by day.
I wont call it Hope.
That makes it sound dangerous.
Am I ready?

I don’t want to post this.
This doesn’t make sense.
Does it?
WhatamIdoingwhatamIdoingwhatamIdoing?
Stopthinkingsomuch.
Stopit.

Am I ready?
Hell, yeah.

For Lovers Past.

This is not goodbye.
No more heartbreak, no need to cry.
No more hollow, icy sighs.
This is not goodbye.

Love comes again,
As we knew it would.
Others steal our hearts,
As we knew they could.
We kiss, we embrace,
But search for a face,
Unforgotten, as it should.

You say Life goes on,
And I know its true.
A new day comes,
For me, for you.
A new day comes without you.
And Life goes on again- its true.

Will you be happy?
Is this what you want?
My eyes, my songs, my breath, my taste,
Lovemaking in haste,
Teardrops and blood that went to waste,
Your days and nights will haunt.

This is not goodbye.

30.6.2011

Encounter.

You will come to me in the hour I wait for you.
In the shadow places I will wait.
You will come in green fire
and bloody footprints.
A broken bell in a broken chapel will toll
your arrival.
Your heart will be wrapped in silver foil.
And it will smell whiter than stones over an icy stream.
The perfect gift.
But you will not remember me.
Your eyes will be buried in my sockets.
And the sliver of your tongue between my lips
 will call my name.
The rose of my youth fades to blue.
A hundred bees stung my mouth.
I couldn’t save sweet honey for you.
Still you will come to me in the hour I wait.
This time- you will.
You always do.