The cold within me sends me to temptation of finding heat in your soul. I magnify the warmth in my mind a million times while standing in the wilderness of a frozen ground in the middle of my inner arctic reality. I dream far away from the swarm of my ice petals of problems and think of no one but you, nothing but your glistening eyes of fake love and truth.
I can't concentrate with the schizophrenic emotions waking up in my mind. One time I want you more than ever, the next, I badly need to forget you. Your picture dissolves too fast for me to remember, but magnifies too large for me to ignore.
The shining around your eyes framing struggles and tries, the temples of tiredness on your face honoring the days that you place, your smile to the night as you stay strong in the plight - and the way you made my heart race watching your heart trace some connection of energy with your presence, your loss and your dreams trying to break free from the grip of the Khartoum city power cut.
The electricity failing as usual leaves the darkness plot its way in the angst scene cascading through you and me. No generator could give life to the gap between us; no battery could be strong enough to overcome our differences. In the created blackness, our sub-Saharan thirsty love disintegrates in the shadows, a manifestation of a lost reason, to ask you to fall in love with me.
Hungry silence devours the emptiness already existing between you and I. There is a truncated sweetness to the atmosphere, a mutated happy ending.
You look in the sky, your eyes scouring to discover a moment of identity; the vast equanimity drags you in the bliss of dreaming. You are relaxed by the calm of the African serenity, the stars ask you stay, you welcome their invitation, you feel at home, you feel found, and you feel like who I wanted.
I think about telling you that I’m tired from hiding the galaxy of desire I have for you, I think about making secrets real, I think about how it would feel if my words impacted softly on you. You would quit translating to the stars and translate to me, everything you want me to see.
Think of it like a wrong ending or a badly written chapter – it’s not how it was meant to be. That’s ridiculous - Everything is going perfect in the midst of all this imperfection, why should I write a terrible ending. Why should I write a terrible ending
I can't concentrate with the schizophrenic emotions waking up in my mind. One time I want you more than ever, the next, I badly need to forget you. Your picture dissolves too fast for me to remember, but magnifies too large for me to ignore.
The shining around your eyes framing struggles and tries, the temples of tiredness on your face honoring the days that you place, your smile to the night as you stay strong in the plight - and the way you made my heart race watching your heart trace some connection of energy with your presence, your loss and your dreams trying to break free from the grip of the Khartoum city power cut.
The electricity failing as usual leaves the darkness plot its way in the angst scene cascading through you and me. No generator could give life to the gap between us; no battery could be strong enough to overcome our differences. In the created blackness, our sub-Saharan thirsty love disintegrates in the shadows, a manifestation of a lost reason, to ask you to fall in love with me.
Hungry silence devours the emptiness already existing between you and I. There is a truncated sweetness to the atmosphere, a mutated happy ending.
You look in the sky, your eyes scouring to discover a moment of identity; the vast equanimity drags you in the bliss of dreaming. You are relaxed by the calm of the African serenity, the stars ask you stay, you welcome their invitation, you feel at home, you feel found, and you feel like who I wanted.
I think about telling you that I’m tired from hiding the galaxy of desire I have for you, I think about making secrets real, I think about how it would feel if my words impacted softly on you. You would quit translating to the stars and translate to me, everything you want me to see.
Think of it like a wrong ending or a badly written chapter – it’s not how it was meant to be. That’s ridiculous - Everything is going perfect in the midst of all this imperfection, why should I write a terrible ending. Why should I write a terrible ending
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