Post by Onyxaeon on Apr 8, 2009 21:38:54 GMT -5
We’re lying in the dark again,
So very far from where we should be.
And we know it’s wrong, so very wrong.
But stealing away in the grace of night is our escape;
It’s not going to cease for fear of consequence,
Or even for the bitter wind that has taken to whipping our flesh.
Such abuse forces a shudder from the both of us.
Cold. Frozen. Both are dear understatements.
And yet, I’m the only one freezing: you rarely catch that chill.
Another shiver rolls over mercilessly from one body to the next,
And limbs clamber about, bodies contorting to find comfort in the fact neither is alone.
It’s not enough, though.
Or, at least one nearly frostbitten soul still sees it so.
Because I’m still shaking.
A sigh is pulled up from the confines of your lungs,
And I’ll catch a familiar sound in that simple action:
The sound of a flawless rhythm stuttering faintly and the staccato running rampant.
Unbeknownst to you, it’s a gentle reminder for me,
Telling me I’ve somehow managed to pluck tenderly at another heartstring.
A slow frost like the hands of thieves and lovers breaths new life into the wintry chill,
And any further distance between the two of us loses its battle,
Driven off to some far secluded corner of time and space in neglect.
We aren’t suffering the same fate.
No, if anything, each has devoured the other in an almost desperate embrace.
The thought of leaving hasn’t even surfaced yet, and still we remain locked in place,
As if the angels themselves could not pull the two knitted souls apart
For fear of shattering the other.
We will have to leave eventually: grudgingly, we both know this.
But aching hearts don’t heed things like the fading time,
And I’m pulling for their victory over the rational mind I’m condemned to obey.
Can I persuade you to stay anyway?
I’m not yet ready to trudge home alone and crawl into icy sheets.
Because that reality is a poor substitute for this one.
And though you haven’t spoken it, I know you feel the same.
Here we remain, lingering for a spare few moments longer,
Dragging out the inevitable
And watching the delicate ice grip at painfully reluctant sinews.
Let me stay.
Please.
If I by chance were a blind and deaf mute,
I would still not have escaped knowing just how hard that hit.
Because that endearing protective beast lingering beneath the surface,
Pacing like a patient panther behind iron clad bars,
Would rather succumb to freezing than wander home.
I’ll think back now from time to time
On restless, dreary nights,
And wonder what would have become of that night.
If only the fates had dealt us the gift of lying stationary.
So very far from where we should be.
And we know it’s wrong, so very wrong.
But stealing away in the grace of night is our escape;
It’s not going to cease for fear of consequence,
Or even for the bitter wind that has taken to whipping our flesh.
Such abuse forces a shudder from the both of us.
Cold. Frozen. Both are dear understatements.
And yet, I’m the only one freezing: you rarely catch that chill.
Another shiver rolls over mercilessly from one body to the next,
And limbs clamber about, bodies contorting to find comfort in the fact neither is alone.
It’s not enough, though.
Or, at least one nearly frostbitten soul still sees it so.
Because I’m still shaking.
A sigh is pulled up from the confines of your lungs,
And I’ll catch a familiar sound in that simple action:
The sound of a flawless rhythm stuttering faintly and the staccato running rampant.
Unbeknownst to you, it’s a gentle reminder for me,
Telling me I’ve somehow managed to pluck tenderly at another heartstring.
A slow frost like the hands of thieves and lovers breaths new life into the wintry chill,
And any further distance between the two of us loses its battle,
Driven off to some far secluded corner of time and space in neglect.
We aren’t suffering the same fate.
No, if anything, each has devoured the other in an almost desperate embrace.
The thought of leaving hasn’t even surfaced yet, and still we remain locked in place,
As if the angels themselves could not pull the two knitted souls apart
For fear of shattering the other.
We will have to leave eventually: grudgingly, we both know this.
But aching hearts don’t heed things like the fading time,
And I’m pulling for their victory over the rational mind I’m condemned to obey.
Can I persuade you to stay anyway?
I’m not yet ready to trudge home alone and crawl into icy sheets.
Because that reality is a poor substitute for this one.
And though you haven’t spoken it, I know you feel the same.
Here we remain, lingering for a spare few moments longer,
Dragging out the inevitable
And watching the delicate ice grip at painfully reluctant sinews.
Let me stay.
Please.
If I by chance were a blind and deaf mute,
I would still not have escaped knowing just how hard that hit.
Because that endearing protective beast lingering beneath the surface,
Pacing like a patient panther behind iron clad bars,
Would rather succumb to freezing than wander home.
I’ll think back now from time to time
On restless, dreary nights,
And wonder what would have become of that night.
If only the fates had dealt us the gift of lying stationary.
