Post by moonwick on Jan 4, 2007 1:07:34 GMT -5
This is now, as I lay me down to sleep,
staring at a ceiling I can only assume is there...
(it's far too dark in here to tell for certain)
dreaming with wide eyes,
a spectator with her blanket spread on the grass,
looking toward the firmament expectantly, waiting for a shooting star.
My mind closes around a memory; it slips into my thoughts unauthorized.
That was then, as the tingle in my lips woke me up each morning,
tiny traces of sweet dreams alive in my cheeks,
waking up, knowing that I had a reason,
that you would show up within a few hours.
We'd spend the day together, learning each other by heart,
pretending for the world that we were merely friends,
stealing kisses while walking past each other in deserted places.
That was then, when the moon was at its zenith,
and we'd sneak out to sit beneath a tree
in the cool, fragrant grips of nature,
holding each other with such tenacity, as if we'd never let go...
as if we had no idea of what was to come...
and when you'd kiss me, time stood still;
my head would get dizzy and my heart would skip beats,
a strange feeling welling up inside of my stomach,
like a cup overflowing with warm, tangy liquid.
That was then, when I got brave enough to kiss you back,
drinking your soul thirstily from your lips,
from the palm of your hand,
like a wild animal, tamed at last.
The wise old moon saw everything.
This is now. Watching memories through a looking glass,
safe on the other side.
Good and safe and perfectly miserable without you.
Dead inside, cold and unfeeling.
This is now.
staring at a ceiling I can only assume is there...
(it's far too dark in here to tell for certain)
dreaming with wide eyes,
a spectator with her blanket spread on the grass,
looking toward the firmament expectantly, waiting for a shooting star.
My mind closes around a memory; it slips into my thoughts unauthorized.
That was then, as the tingle in my lips woke me up each morning,
tiny traces of sweet dreams alive in my cheeks,
waking up, knowing that I had a reason,
that you would show up within a few hours.
We'd spend the day together, learning each other by heart,
pretending for the world that we were merely friends,
stealing kisses while walking past each other in deserted places.
That was then, when the moon was at its zenith,
and we'd sneak out to sit beneath a tree
in the cool, fragrant grips of nature,
holding each other with such tenacity, as if we'd never let go...
as if we had no idea of what was to come...
and when you'd kiss me, time stood still;
my head would get dizzy and my heart would skip beats,
a strange feeling welling up inside of my stomach,
like a cup overflowing with warm, tangy liquid.
That was then, when I got brave enough to kiss you back,
drinking your soul thirstily from your lips,
from the palm of your hand,
like a wild animal, tamed at last.
The wise old moon saw everything.
This is now. Watching memories through a looking glass,
safe on the other side.
Good and safe and perfectly miserable without you.
Dead inside, cold and unfeeling.
This is now.