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In my mind there's a whole world full of characters that bide their time writing silly love songs. Silly love songs to silly little you. And they cry over Texas so that your mom will wake to Venice. Wake to a city full of water. The world in my head has been drowning in the sadness you cause. The moon is beautiful, but she's not my type. You are the sun above my world, creating life. There's a old couple on the sidewalk in my mind and I picture them as us. But they cant be us. They are Eastern European. I can tell they are because they are dressed nicely but their clothes are a few years out of date. I like to imagine that it's their first time in Venice. They sit there, her in her wheelchair and him in his suspenders. They glace out across the water as they cross the bridge. Only the back wheels of her wheelchair touch the old wood of the worn bridge. He tilts her towards him like he's drinking in everything she is. I envision them in their gray hotel room later that night, their faces canvases for shadows of the city. It covers them like a blanket. The window curtains are swollen with wind . . . Wind that touches every person that resides in my mind. The wind is the color of lavender with undertones of brown. Beautiful, just like you. There's a five year old on the street who glued bottle caps to his shoes and he taps to the song of the blue bird. The blue bird that sings the blues. Sings the blues like a wind chime without wind. A heart without blood. A body without a life source. You are my source of life. Like water, like air, like food. But all those things combined. I want to float on my back through your blood stream. I want to soak up everything you are like a sponge. Hannah, you will never loose me to the wind. I want nothing more then to be an eyelash on your cheek, blown to the wind for a wish that will never be granted. I want just one wish that I send to the gods, whoever they are, to come true. And that one wish is you. I regret nothing; I will not pull the splinters from my heart, just as Christ never pulled the thorns from his head. I opened the night with my teeth just for a glimpse of you. We will wake to Venice one day, I promise.
Kindell
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