by Seffbasilisk Fri Oct 22, 2010 7:40 pmAsk me to write, to take pen and paper, or a thousand furious finger strokes, to digitally ensnare...
Her hair in the sunlight, that glimmer, that little furtive look as she pulled up the hood, wearing that superman hoodie that'd been my trademark for years, that I'd not let another wear or in many cases even touch...
Ask me to write, to word-smith, to hammer out turns of phrase, to try to show...
Under the moonlight, that little catch in her throat, the pipe still glowed, but I placed it aside to pull her close. Kissing her, we both had others, we both knew it seemed wrong, but this was love, overcoming all obstacles. This was, that moment of "We're still alive" after the beast had been out. Of such relief and sweet joy that she was alright, and I saw her look at me, and I felt a familiar stirring...
Ask me to write, to shelter and showcase emotions, motions and moments...
That bus stop, sitting across from the hotel we'd just stayed in, cracking up as we walked there, remembering the front desk calling up at four AM, the guy next door complaining we were pounding on the wall, when really it was the headboard...
Ask me to try to tell you, in words, in tones, in lexicon unbound...
How time stood still when I first met her eye, and the irritation that'd begun to flower withered away. How a smile creased my face, and my heartbeat fluttered. How I loved her, then, before I'd fully even looked at her, before I knew her full name, her story, or heard her whisper, lying in bed next to me, wrapped up in my arms, how she'd fallen in love with me in that samesaid moment...
Ask me to write, to spin tales of truth, to show you my humanity...
I'd show you the spot on my neck, where I let her claim me by her rituals. Tell of how I'd laid claim to her long before that, and she was so glad to be mine, weeks before she could call me hers. I'd tell you of the girl I broke up with, and her misguided fears that I wouldn't...
Ask me to write, to try to show you the world of mine, my pain, my pleasure, my rapture and reviscitude...
I'd ask you to show me what's real. Who else can feel, the depths of emotion and heights of highs I've been dragged to and launched upwards with? I'm a creature of passion, and without that fire, each breath is just the metronome, telling from beat to beat, that your life is ending. Never give up, never surrender.
She hurt me, but I'll not turn my heart to stone. Instead I'll write. I'll bleed all over this page, and show you a thousand mangled pieces of my heart. I'll try to patch them together, and we'll have times of levity, and if I can, I'll slay your dragons, and hold you while you battle your inner demons.
I'd be your White Knight,
but you...you would drag my banner through the mire.
Her hair in the sunlight, that glimmer, that little furtive look as she pulled up the hood, wearing that superman hoodie that'd been my trademark for years, that I'd not let another wear or in many cases even touch...
Ask me to write, to word-smith, to hammer out turns of phrase, to try to show...
Under the moonlight, that little catch in her throat, the pipe still glowed, but I placed it aside to pull her close. Kissing her, we both had others, we both knew it seemed wrong, but this was love, overcoming all obstacles. This was, that moment of "We're still alive" after the beast had been out. Of such relief and sweet joy that she was alright, and I saw her look at me, and I felt a familiar stirring...
Ask me to write, to shelter and showcase emotions, motions and moments...
That bus stop, sitting across from the hotel we'd just stayed in, cracking up as we walked there, remembering the front desk calling up at four AM, the guy next door complaining we were pounding on the wall, when really it was the headboard...
Ask me to try to tell you, in words, in tones, in lexicon unbound...
How time stood still when I first met her eye, and the irritation that'd begun to flower withered away. How a smile creased my face, and my heartbeat fluttered. How I loved her, then, before I'd fully even looked at her, before I knew her full name, her story, or heard her whisper, lying in bed next to me, wrapped up in my arms, how she'd fallen in love with me in that samesaid moment...
Ask me to write, to spin tales of truth, to show you my humanity...
I'd show you the spot on my neck, where I let her claim me by her rituals. Tell of how I'd laid claim to her long before that, and she was so glad to be mine, weeks before she could call me hers. I'd tell you of the girl I broke up with, and her misguided fears that I wouldn't...
Ask me to write, to try to show you the world of mine, my pain, my pleasure, my rapture and reviscitude...
I'd ask you to show me what's real. Who else can feel, the depths of emotion and heights of highs I've been dragged to and launched upwards with? I'm a creature of passion, and without that fire, each breath is just the metronome, telling from beat to beat, that your life is ending. Never give up, never surrender.
She hurt me, but I'll not turn my heart to stone. Instead I'll write. I'll bleed all over this page, and show you a thousand mangled pieces of my heart. I'll try to patch them together, and we'll have times of levity, and if I can, I'll slay your dragons, and hold you while you battle your inner demons.
I'd be your White Knight,
but you...you would drag my banner through the mire.
The writing is incredible though, as yours always is.