I'm Tired of Vanishing Smoke
It was an awkward meeting. Between the boy who dreams big and the girl with dreams of foreign places. He tried to tie our souls together, without so much as a by your leave. I said yes to the Universe, but my yes did not entail automatic soul fusion; a simple rendezvous was all I contracted with to the Universe.
Eyes of blue swimming down into the murky depths of me. What are you even doing in there? So far down; poking around; leaving messages; flitting away. What are you doing? Do you even know? Can those eyes of blue even see? Does your brain register what they see? Or does only part of you know?
You ask permission for acceptance and to ascend; yet you intrusively dive right in to my oceanic pools of cool blue eyes, possibly missing the ring of light green that dances on the centers' surface; but you didn't splash around there for long before diving down, down, down in to the dark recesses of me; the dark cavern where my heart resides; into the very essence of me.
Why is it that you dive in my waters? My demarcation line means nothing to you, it seems. What are you looking for down there? Haven't you found it yet? What were you saying down there in the dark? Every time you are in there you are whispering; are they lies, are they commands, are you preying on my hopes and dreams? Stop going inside myself to tell me things. Speak aloud to my face instead of sneakily wending words around my heart.
You think you are cunning, but I know what you said, what you were secretly whispering to my heart. I can not be owned and I do not have to wait. When the door opens, I will follow it. To farthest Peru or Coldest Germany. If you are not on the other side, it matters little to me. One can not hold smoke, which is exactly what you are. You are like smoke, traipsing around in the other world between; always there, but never here in this tangible one. My entire life has been ether, things I can not have, touch or hold. I want real; the true true. If you can't look me in the eyes without diving into them and speak words through your physical lips, then it means nothing. You may have the ability to slip past my guards and have a foray in my holiest of places, but that does not mean I have to be bound by the words you speak there.
Eyes of blue swimming down into the murky depths of me. What are you even doing in there? So far down; poking around; leaving messages; flitting away. What are you doing? Do you even know? Can those eyes of blue even see? Does your brain register what they see? Or does only part of you know?
You ask permission for acceptance and to ascend; yet you intrusively dive right in to my oceanic pools of cool blue eyes, possibly missing the ring of light green that dances on the centers' surface; but you didn't splash around there for long before diving down, down, down in to the dark recesses of me; the dark cavern where my heart resides; into the very essence of me.
Why is it that you dive in my waters? My demarcation line means nothing to you, it seems. What are you looking for down there? Haven't you found it yet? What were you saying down there in the dark? Every time you are in there you are whispering; are they lies, are they commands, are you preying on my hopes and dreams? Stop going inside myself to tell me things. Speak aloud to my face instead of sneakily wending words around my heart.
You think you are cunning, but I know what you said, what you were secretly whispering to my heart. I can not be owned and I do not have to wait. When the door opens, I will follow it. To farthest Peru or Coldest Germany. If you are not on the other side, it matters little to me. One can not hold smoke, which is exactly what you are. You are like smoke, traipsing around in the other world between; always there, but never here in this tangible one. My entire life has been ether, things I can not have, touch or hold. I want real; the true true. If you can't look me in the eyes without diving into them and speak words through your physical lips, then it means nothing. You may have the ability to slip past my guards and have a foray in my holiest of places, but that does not mean I have to be bound by the words you speak there.
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