The steady raindrops underneath my eyelashes tell me that illusion is the template of your image.
Tell me what you see when the light of morning impatiently arouses your vision and rests heavily on all your senses.
You float before me through filtered lenses and artificial colours,
Yet I find my restless hands tracing the repetitive melody wrapped around your every curve.
I am involuntarily blind to the animated world beyond your shoulders.
Tell me how to wash the gentle warmth of your breath out of my hair and I promise I will smile
When I try to sew together the eroded pieces of my heart with clumsy yet determined fingers.
My prolonged sighs fill crimson nights on top of tired bed-sheets.
Tell me I am not a fool and I will be a fool to believe you.
0 comments:
Post a Comment