i will just lay here now and i think that the sun may rise and set and rise again and burn gold fire and turn itself around ourselves, decopurnicated. i think the wind may rustle the trees that stand outside your window, that three leaves may fall jaundiced, sit crispy on the ground, and i think he may tease chimes, to bell for our own pleasure. i think that if i strained myself that i might hear fractions of a whole, glimpsed words in shaded phrases, tones of question and answer, of declaration, affirmation and recrimination, of truths and lies and all between, of greys and tension and sorrow, and i'll think that all this may be but all i'll know is your soft skin and half closed eyelids, half mooned eyes glittered in the rosy fingered half light.
Last edited by Gurgle!Argh! at Oct 27, 2007,