I want to be open.
I want to be honest.
I want your arms to lean back on;
my cushion of sand on a salty morning,
the vacation I never took.
I want to spread my arms and legs
as far as they never had
and have you read my soul
just like any other book
one weekend away from work.
Discover the bastard in me,
the dark side you’ll always forgive;
what good you awakened always drowning out
the bad.
Take the lie of my life,
like it was the lay of your motherland,
and love the mountains blocking your view
of the far-off sand.
The other day
I tried to come up with a song:
the words would not come, the music
did not rise. I’ve been awake since then;
sprawled out on the couch dreaming of castles built
with money I’d dreamed up earlier, wishing you
were here pasting Picassos on my wall
lending old wallpaper another breath to hang on.
I’m awake right now,
right here in the honest dark -
there’s no fireflies in Lake Worth, did you know that?
- trying to cram the easiest words into a jar,
hoping they’ll be kinder on my tongue
come morning.
Help me sleep, wherever you are right now.
I want your arms to lean back on.
I want to be honest.
I want to be open.
Who are you talking to??? Is that a lucky girl, or what? ;)
Ah how this one made me cry! So beautifully true.