my creation.liberation. destination.

But like a kite in the wind  you come floating back into  the wide-open chapel of my heart–

You’re just a British schoolboy  in a dark little room, with lipstick stains all over your mouth,  disarming me with talk of the wicked ways of the world. 

& you like the taste of the lipstick,  You like the taste of the lipstick,  you say, 

& that’s when I know; when it comes flooding back. 

I worry about you dear,  I say to the empty night,  I worry about you &  I worry about what I become  when I’m around you–

This howling, desperate girl so afraid to let go; to release the ghost of those quivering gunshots from memory.  Well, summer has other plans for us; fog on the mirrors and you gracing my homeland  (or maybe just the land I once called a home)

We are frenetic with passion like a top spinning at the edge of a table / building castles in our minds like we’re living a fable. We are electric with the heat;  &you’re blue, babe,  a shade I cannot reach.  Always the writer, always the romantic,  you say,

But I don’t know any other way to be  & I have tried, I have tried so hard,  to lock my words away. I’m so sorry  I cannot be a silent friend. 

I can share myself cinematically and draw parallels to a momentary divinity; mind, body and heart forming a seductive trinity–