They say that if you don't make mistakes, you don't really live. Here's a confession of the one I made.
I feel your chest
Heave up and down under my arm
As the morning sun washes away
The fantasies of the night gone by
Reality is cruel, they say
But I know
It can't be as cruel as you and I
Are to each other
And the world
I feel your lips
Parted and dry,
Inviting, but distant
As I realise how we must be to the others
I want to pause the sunlight
The breeze, the time
Your body under mine
This is a good time to think
But time, as we know
Keeps slipping away
And before we can blink
Makes us strangers in the day
Right now,
In the dawn stillness
I can hear the furniture moan
Chairs and beds
Under the weight of our secret,
Under the weight of our inexplicable acts,
Under the weight of your cruelty,
As you make love to me and whisper "this is a mistake"
And I reply with "no, you are"
I can feel you stir
Your leg wraps itself around mine
Your hand holds my waist again
Firm, still
You look up from slumber
And I say "good morning"
To which your head
Buried on my navel
Says "don't go yet"
I can not stop feeling you
Even on this train seat
And I know,
For every time you say "don't go yet"
I'll say "then make me stay"
Do you see?
Why I call us cruel?
What is this
If not pure torture
Name it
Name me
Name me differently
Name everything about me
As I name everything about us
I can call your eyes acqua
You can call mine coal
I can call your lips honey
You can call mine Bordeaux
I can call you my muse
You can call me your whore
Maybe then it isn't so cruel
Because we only name things
We love