I sat alone,
sewing stories to my soul,
pink glitter at ease on my eyelids,
soft, pastel, peaceful pink,
you know it’s my favourite colour,
don’t you?
We watched a movie about madness,
in the middle of the night,
with the chocolates you got me for Valentine’s Day.
I was quite satisfied with the taste,
but still missed you on my lips,
so,
you know that you can kiss me,
if you want to.
Don’t you?
I just want to be your girl,
it isn’t much more complicated than that,
but sometimes, it feels like I’m on a path,
drenched in dark,
no light, no guide,
and my shoes are bombs,
but I just keep walking,
eyeshadow sparkling,
as I spark up a cigarette,
to see my way back to you better.
One of my psychics said your name this morning,
and I couldn’t breathe for a minute or so.
I just want to sew stanzas into my soul,
about the way you made summer seem to last forever,
kissing you in Greenwich Park,
deep inside my dreams,
keeping my lips soft,
with coconut scrub,
and romantic ambition,
for when the kiss eventually comes.
