Between the blotted spaces through a nearly empty room, by the inviting light of a warm fire, you lay across your moonlight pale body in the oceans of the four-poster bed.
You had your stare aimlessly fixed at the disdainful fire that calms you, thinking to yourself that we all deserved a dose of compassion, even for a woman like you.
You cried that line a few times over and you always were hard on yourself, I wished I could carry you just to make you see.
Then turned your head and asked me what to do, you wanted to buy an idea so much.
We watched the movies again, all the good ones, and the bad. So, we can remember why we loved them the first time.
I didn’t know why, but I think that was far better than waiting for dawn to arrive.
You hated waiting too, so we stuck with those instead.
And we used to believe in shadow plays and mystery novels. As much as we hated audio books and those battery-operated cigarettes.
Your breath was soft and quiet in your sleep, and your breasts were like a bobbing wooden canoe over a sleepy river.
I know your mind is not made up yet, so maybe if you’d please, maybe we can fly off and see the greens beneath our feet instead? To set off over the infinite marsh of white clouds and colored pencil horizons.
Because we do not want to be lined up like canned goods and fruit juices in tetra packs on grocery aisles, hoping to be picked up before our expiration dates. You would always say.
I looked outside and asked for the night to whistle a merry tune, but the stars were mute. They were for the wandering eyes, and so I guessed I did not need them. But why was I gazing at the brightest one that night?
We decided to drive off, rolling the windows down and in between towns I was putting together a traveling song, writing on the dashboard. I was bouncing the tip of the pen against the chin, fidgeting it playfully between the fingers. Your head was in the open road.
I remember the night when we first landed on the moon at the backseat of the car. You slurred, with eyes nearly closed, then the faint beam from a passing car revealed your pale skin. We were rearranging the universe.
Life passed us by when we were too busy doing make-believe. And we could not catch up with reality eventually.
But in the flashing lights of that night, I would gladly stay, for it will always be my favorite time.
Something lifted you all of a sudden, I can see it in the flutters of your dress, in all the literature, and the open-ended inscriptions you wrote me.
And so, I made a phone call and left you a message. I know it was all too late, but I hope I did not make you wait for too long this time.
4 thoughts on “Across the Waves and the Undertones”
No problem 🙂 stop by my blog, when you get the chance
Thanks for dropping by 🙂
Nice post 🙂
Comments are closed.