There’s a place between seeing and dreaming, a boundary in reality where longing and wanting swim inside eyes.
And it’s a trick of the light, a slowed heart that projects things on a lazy gaze.
You come like the sun at the end of may, fleeting but warm and trying,
trying so intensely hard to just shine. Your edges are blurred despite how solid you seem, I’ve never met someone so real, and maybe it’s the tint of sunglasses or maybe just because you’re made of nothing but softness.
The thing is, you’re too good for a life like this, I know you’ll end up tearing me apart.
I’ve always been drawn to self destruction,
this might be the most fatal yet.
It goes like this,
you appear within me even when you’re not there beside me, appear with a smile that has my heart pounding out a beat to the soundtrack of your laugh that sets the wind on fire.
There’s something wrong about being addicted to a pair of eyes.
I’m not supposed to be able to see a past I should remember but don’t, I’m not supposed to see a soul dancing in colours, I’m not supposed to see home.
And when I’ve conjured you up again in the darkness from words sent on a lit screen, you ask me questions I can’t answer.
What would sirens sing to you?
There’s only one answer.
A composition made of your eyes and your smile, the bridge of a requiem played by strings set on laughter. The sunlight filtering through frozen parts of things kept locked away.
The way your voice sounds when you say my name.