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allt inget kärlek luft vin och känslor jag inte ens orkar namnge. varning för stavfel/grammatik. skrev det idag efter att jag lämnat dig vid flygplatsen, klockan 8 på morgonen. körde med enda terapin i know.

back in america

it feels as if apart we are none but all the same. togehter it feels different - some thing or some feeling i can't even put a name on. i am confused when i turn to you, snoring lightly beside me. the sheets are tangled as they usually are after love-making and your scent is still in the air. your sweat dries on my skin.

your hair is the most wonderful color. it is everything and nothing. it is brown, mostly. then it goes blonder in the summer. it smells like where you're from; it smells of meadows and cornfields and non-smokey air.

your eyes don't look at me, but in and under dreams and maybe wonderful/maybe not so wonderful. but sixteen hours ago they were very close, not closed, a light brown, like the chocolate we once shared on the roof of your/not really your car.

like the chocolate i melted in those eyes and my cream skin became your honey skin and my blonde straw mixed toghether with your brown. my green (i call them that, you say they are blue) eyes became one with your brown. together we became a clumsy, teenage, yet-so-perfect recipe.

aftermath is what they call it i know. is aftermath the way i count your breaths? the way i trail the plates of your stomach and the sharp-angled ribs of yours? is aftermath the smell on your skin, the smoke in your hair, the softness of you and me?

is aftermath the harsh reality that tear us apart, me yelling and crying and clawing; you with sad eyes and shut mouth and silent love.

goodbye is the worst word there is. i breathe it and think it and choke on in as i fall into your marks in the matress. i roll over to your side and we melt together, my back to your belly and my tears on your pillow. you say nothing.

i hurt badly before you and i were us. it was constant ache and i wished and hoped for true love. i didn't know it would feel like this. how it would turn up down and right left. how it would make you drink cheap wine from strange boxes and become drunk on nothing but love, really. how it would make you cry and yell and laugh and live.

you smell of smoke even though you don't smoke. you are my addiction and i can't kick it. i can't kick you. i can't quit you, cheesy as it may sound.

i dream of nothing but you and everything but you.

morning is quiet. morning is lazy and drowsy and reality smashing down, pushing me into you and making you pull away. because we both know. you can't stay.

in the airport i am not tears. i don't want to waste 100, 99, 98, 97 seconds on a runny nose and watery eyes, blurring the edges and making me lose that last image of you.

i huh you and your t-shirt doesn't smell like meadows and cornfields and air. it smells like us now. concrete and soft and green and smoke and coffee and love and sheets and scents and us us us us us us us us. perhaps me, too.

i let go and you let go and i brush my fingertips over your belly, chest, soft, yet non-soft, arms, shoulders and face. i memorize your chocolate eyes and brownis/blondish hair and cheekbones. i stroke your nose and your whole face yet again.

i am not ready. there won't be a time when and where i am ready.

i watch you leave. i want to shout.

i want to cry.

i want you to take me with.

but most of all,

i want us together, as one, to melt away.

leaving us gasping for breath and tangled together with love and hurt and forever locked in that place in-between.

Övriga genrer av sofiasv
Läst 218 gånger och applåderad av 1 personer
Publicerad 2009-06-28 01:24

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  the apache kid VIP
Wow! I really dig this poem. It really has tone. A couple of the many lines that stand out for me are:

"you smell of smoke even though you don't smoke. you are my addiction and i can't kick it. i can't kick you. i can't quit you, cheesy as it may sound."

maybe you'll like this link. One of may favourite songs by
Al Kooper and close to your words but with a gender switch.


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