Late nights talks between me and the geese always leave me lacking; my cup is still half empty of leftovers and castaways. away away, up up and away we go. dear pan, peter, teach me to fly and jump away from these window panes which imprison and torture me, lock me away and keep me 'safe', sound and safe and a prisoner behind glass. imprisoned. take me, i'll make love in the clouds and horrify the angels who never gave a damn about me. just take me, give me wings. capture my geese, hollow out my bones and let me flee. i'll leave the scent of lilacs behind in the winds as they carry me away to you, darling icarus. you amateur. the sun is my discarded lover, my emptiness too strong to go running back. back to you, back to innocence, back to happiness. i need you. you've crashed and burned, but i can love your ashes. i will spirit you away on my breast, away to fantasies and children's imaginations, bed time stories and the talk of pillows. pillow talk. kiss your singed eyelashes and flushed cheeks and learn every inch of your body, it's all i can do in the time we have. memorize your features, i'll miss your more in the time i am without you. i have blood on my hands, but i have thimbles for thumbs and my fingerprints were seared away in the heat of moonlight. don't you leave me with the sun, not after feather soft whispers entangled sheets and musings of wonderings left us flushed and out breath. you leave me dizzy and disoriented, but i will risk nausea for you. take me, free me, empty me, fill me, let me go. love me.
