In yearning, in not wanting, in disbelief and in faith, the quagmire of desires have camouflaged your existence in my being. My dawn-fulls of you, slip between my fingers, biding me with a forbidden smile of omniscience.
I can't remember when I met you first, but I remember you creeping slowly in my watery sunsets, infusing melody to my melancholy. Chamomile. I have only ever wanted to not want you. Weaving and unraveling every thread of moment snarled in your breath, I trudge to keep pace. You tickle, tingle, trickle on the sole of my feet and brace my soul.
Should I hold you or snatch you? Should I implore or should I writhe in longing till I long no more? Should I ask if you too will implode?
Or should I treasure you, like a beat in my bosom, living and leaving my life when I be?
I can't remember when I met you first, but I remember you creeping slowly in my watery sunsets, infusing melody to my melancholy. Chamomile. I have only ever wanted to not want you. Weaving and unraveling every thread of moment snarled in your breath, I trudge to keep pace. You tickle, tingle, trickle on the sole of my feet and brace my soul.
Should I hold you or snatch you? Should I implore or should I writhe in longing till I long no more? Should I ask if you too will implode?
Or should I treasure you, like a beat in my bosom, living and leaving my life when I be?
