Faded Fantasy3 читателя тэги
#Behaviorism + #Ethics Becomes Aesthetics с другими тэгами
A/G/
I slept there the night you said ‘I think I’m
falling in love with you,’ igniting a great unendurable
belongingness, like a match in a forest fire.
I burned so long so quiet you must have wondered
if I loved you back. I did, I did, I do.
L/R/
i think it’s brave that you get up in the morning even if your soul is weary and your bones ache for a rest
i think it’s brave that you keep оn living
even if you don’t know how to anymore
i think it’s brave that you push away the waves rolling in every day
and you decide to fight
i know there are days when you feel like giving up but
i think it’s brave
that you never do
///
I told myself to stay away. What was broken in me was broken. No оne could fix it. And I did the opposite.
S/P/
I am sending back the key
that let me into bluebeard's study;
because he would make love to me
I am sending back the key;
in his eye's darkroom I can see
my X-rayed heart, dissected body :
I am sending back the key
that let me into bluebeard's study.
C/H/
Who could blame me for seeing оnly what I wanted to see? Who could accuse me of anything? I loved everything that didn’t love me back; it was the easiest thing in the world. Back then, I believed in change. I believed scaffolding was the same thing as structure. I thought I could build it.
C/A/D/
If I was dead,
and my bones adrift
like dropped oars
in the deep, turning earth;
or drowned,
and my skull
a listening shell
on the dark ocean bed;
if I was dead,
and my heart
soft mulch
for a red, red rose;
or burned,
and my body
a fistful of grit, thrown
in the face of the wind;
if I was dead,
and my eyes,
blind at the roots of flowers,
wept into nothing,
I swear your love
would raise me
out of my grave,
in my flesh and blood,
like Lazarus;
hungry for this,
and this, and this,
your living kiss.
C/A/D/
Uninvited, the thought of you stayed too late in my head,
so I went to bed, dreaming you hard, hard, woke with your name,
like tears, soft, salt, оn my lips, the sound of its bright syllables
like a charm, like a spell.
Falling in love
is glamorous hell; the crouched, parched heart
like a tiger ready to kill; a flame’s fierce licks under the skin.
Into my life, larger than life, beautiful, you strolled in.
I hid in my ordinary days, in the long grass of routine,
in my camouflage rooms. You sprawled in my gaze,
staring back from anyone’s face, from the shape of a cloud,
from the pining, earth-struck moon which gapes at me
as I open the bedroom door. The curtains stir. There you are
on the bed, like a gift, like a touchable dream.