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music |
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Delicate ~ Damien Rice |
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[Post Hoc Ergo Procter Hoc]
Crumble me and start again.
Remake me; I want to be fresh.
I slept with pieces of you by the moonlight,
letting them cradle my head like a crown.
Shards of you from broken mirrors,
scraps of you, old and torn,
melted into me.
They are tucked in my coat pocket.
They slipped between my curls.
They are dancing on my fingers,
gliding through my skin.
No one will see where you stop and
I begin.
We don’t follow street signs anymore.
We’re the new breed.
We’re the new scene.
We’re the Alpha,
but I’m not sure I’m ready.
I want to kiss you under an archway,
hold you near a stairway,
the way I want you to hold me close,
so close, we might just melt.
Just melt.
I want to steady your shoulders,
graze my fingers over your haughty grin,
and replace the lip you lost in passion.
But I’ll just stay shy,
and get high
on what could be.
Darlings, let me tell you, I want love. I'll take up all the oxygen in the room, relearning how to breathe. A deep penatrating sadness overwhelmes me like a flashflood; yet, a lone honey candle, a single white rose, and a scarlet ribbon sit on a sidetable, with a brilliant cerulean dress slung on the chair nearby. I don't know what these things mean. I don't know if they mean anything. The picture it creates in my head, the dim lighting surrounding this oddly familiar scene, grabs at me. Then, a young man, his face unsketchable, but unmistakablly known to me, emerges from the shadows. There is a certain comfort that enevolpes us and in this moment, I know I've met him before. The way his shoulders glide when he walks, his hands, his rougish air, with a tint of untouched sweetness - it all puts me to ease. A garden of emeralds surround us. I'm sure I smell lilacs. The moon pours a spotlight on us. I'm dressed in the blue gown, holding the white rose with the ribbon tied around the thorns. We are dancing like there is a grand, but gentle swing band playing. I'm dazed and sure I'm wrapped in love. We may have kissed, it was such a fog. All I know is that I'm certain the stars above us can't feel this good. I'm not worried about my feet. I'm not concerned about what I might say. We are silent, but our dialogue is clearer than the crystal glass that seems to incompass our moonlit globe. Ladies in white gloves and bright dresses glide with their partners on the floor with us. He looks at me archly, with a certain silent dare in his eyes. There was something incredibly adventurous about the way we ran, hands held, from the crowd. We laughed and escaped, like mischievious children to their treehouse after only eating dessert, skipping dinner.
Suddenly, we surrounded each other. The garden turned into an enchanting forest, lush and inviting, yet full of danger. We melted into each other. There was no holding back. It was as if we surrendered our whole selves to something bigger than the wood around us, something almost as big as we felt that night, under the moon. I've never been so awake at night.
Then I woke up. A toast: may all of you find this great love in this world, and until then, in dreams...
But in dreams,
I can hear your name
and in dreams,
we will meet again.
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clearlytaupo's journal
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