He placed his lips on mine
and my ever steady heart took flight,
his hands touched my skin
and it felt like everything dead had come alive.
It's not magic
but he doesn't know what sparkle dust is
and what's it that he has sprinkled to thaw me.
I had not let myself be held,
I'd been standing on my own two feet
for the longest time that I can remember
but he held my hand in his
and something within melted,
and the next thing I knew was holding onto him,
secretly catching glances of him humming and singing.
There were no stars in the sky
but there were lights all around,
there were no lies I was seeing
only his eyes that were the brightest of them all.
His warm hand in mine
and I needed nothing more to draw away the cold.
He made me feel certain things
that I'd for long let go.
His touch on my skin, his scent, his taste
come back to me in raw dreams,
he asked me if I wanted a picture
but he couldn't read that my eyes
were flashing away to store it all in my memories.
I'm not the kind to give anything of mine,
but to him, I have my days, my hours, my nights,
my lips, my mind, my thighs,
I'd give more if he'd give me something I'd call mine.
And to him, these words speak raw:
There's infatuation, it's true,
I like speaking to you -
You don't speak the way I do,
I've never experienced anyone like you.
I'm not an angel,
but I want to be someone's whole world,
a religion on my own
that someone would want to show off.
I'm a dream, I'm the most treasured memory,
the kind you watched in all the films you spoke of with me.
Kiss me once more
and I'll make you forget
everything you ever thought you'd never get.
Now that all the school-girl crush has been written down,
who'll tell him:
I write very bad poetry.
