22 February 2013
As I drift my imagination works to find the most perfect of images.
Your lips upon my neck.
Your arms around my waist.
Your fingers and hands resting on my lower back.
Readying for the beautiful and innocent and pure and loving and expressive and pain-numbing and numb-numbing and gorgeous.
Tangible love.
Real love.
My love.
Our love is as beautiful as you during song.
You raise one hand to your face, fingers gently pressed together, eyes closed, guitar hangs, pure beauty in a true form.
Drifting images.
Never real.
Never accessible.
Never true.
Lies.
Pain.
Numb.
Never.
No.
No.
No.
No.
Drifting images, never let you see yes.
Or even, maybe?
I want yes.
I want love.
Real love.
Accessible love.
Tangible love.
Love as lovely as you.
Love that is pain-numbing.
Love that is numb-numbing.
All you bring is pain.
All you bring is numbing.
I don't want to be in pain anymore.
I don't want to be numb anymore.
I don't want to be here anymore.
I don't want to be here for you, my one true and inaccessible love, my aged love, my new love.
And I don't want to be here for my accessible love, my never accepting love, my young love, my aged love.
I don't have a love to live for after all, so why do I?
Drifting • Opuss № I