There’s always a risk in letting yourself feel alleviated
But if you close yourself up to the thrill
Will you ever feel alive?
I grace your hair with flowers or flames
Blooming red or burning tenderness
In the secret garden of my mind
I lick the memories of Spring
You have that taste of Spring
I don’t know why
But you’ve always tasted that way
Like thin fresh air on my rosy cheeks on a late morning
Like a calm and dizzy dream, and
To the night, we’ve surrendered!
Sanctified our body
Among the cushions and the hangovers
Gave into pleasure
For we are innocent in the eye of the other
As if we’d never loved
As if we were teenagers
So shy, so scared, so stupid, so pure
So sexy, so wild, so lonely, so wide, and
Yet as I’m turning my loving into words, I wonder:
Isn’t funny that a person who is so fond of the world of the wordy
Is attracted by the ones who don’t say any?