MelancholyThe script was read and all that was left was punctuation and gaps in which I settled myself to find meaning where you drew reason, perhaps,Melancholy
and as I delved into your paragraphs, timid might-have-meants, under-worded anchors with no end that just sat upon the fence,
I felt my sight devour logical words and all I knew was shot when I let myself imagine breathing where your own breath was not
and the sorrow was so terribly real, so crushing and so true that in those moments I would prefer to die than to live without you.
Point Of No ReturnAfter much deliberation, it was sent.Point Of No Return
Finger accepted duty,
screen lay blank, the regret was delayed.
Silence from your end and, consequently, from mine.
Waves of explanation come tearing through, leaving wreckage of confidence and,
"it's only the truth"
seems absolutely naive and too hopeful.
There is no turning back, no safety nets or wires, no faces to interrupt my own or words to smooth over what I really mean.
It was always only a matter of time, of courage and of
EnigmaImpeccable: your walls as impenetrable as the gates to Eden and each individual bar to rise up by my nose keeps me further chained to you.Enigma
Without reason, I let her in.
Like the Devil himself I reek of betrayal, of substance, unqualified and underpaid to interrupt our apparant unfolding with something so easy.
Explanation will do no good without releasing the springform of my ribs and arms and exposing all you are to me, and I can't be certain that this is what you want.
But this fever is ingesting my ulterio
The RehearsalsAnother low, I reason, it will not last, it will not stay.The Rehearsals
And the showers of light that splatter in my eyes digress from the rehearsals that've been spinning 'round my head and my imagination, and I welcome the distraction.
But, let it be known that my offered handshake was always supposed to be a kiss.
| Take a sentiment that's real Take the way you really feel And find a safe place to hide it. |
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