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Missed Me
He was back in the dark alleys of rainfall,
And I
Touched with the tips of my fingers
Every lamppost I passed by.
He tilted his head;
Called for me to come closer.
Perhaps it was the swinging of my skirt -
The fabric creating poetic lies of dances
And
Falling to the floor.
Revealing skin untouched.
Perhaps it was these eyes,
Or these lips -
Unkissed and spitting fire,
This body -
Like it knows things
And have known for a while.
(It knows not a damn thing.)
And I have reached him again,
And I bend my body to his;
And we breathe out in mists,
Exhaled the verses we missed.
Everything wrong
is everything you can't fix
With a whistle,
With a blow,
With a kiss.
And I have my mind to mend,
And he has his women to bed.
And we know there is nothing like the
Crimson of my lips,
Crimson of his blood from battle wounds.
And the blue of the music,
And the blue of our souls.
The silver moonlight of our nights,
The deceptive white of a piece of paper or a bed sheet.
(Nothing like
The lavender
And lilac of me.)
We are a breathless mural
On a wall of a hotel room stuck in time,
Beside these black and white photographs locked
In sorrow and ecstasy.
And we
Shall crumble with it.
And the heart must have its armor
For the gunshot that might come -
That there may be nothing,
Nothing at all to find
At the end of a kiss.
(Or at the end of love.)
Missed Me by The Dresden Dolls : https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-5jtmIddb7k
And I
Touched with the tips of my fingers
Every lamppost I passed by.
He tilted his head;
Called for me to come closer.
Perhaps it was the swinging of my skirt -
The fabric creating poetic lies of dances
And
Falling to the floor.
Revealing skin untouched.
Perhaps it was these eyes,
Or these lips -
Unkissed and spitting fire,
This body -
Like it knows things
And have known for a while.
(It knows not a damn thing.)
And I have reached him again,
And I bend my body to his;
And we breathe out in mists,
Exhaled the verses we missed.
Everything wrong
is everything you can't fix
With a whistle,
With a blow,
With a kiss.
And I have my mind to mend,
And he has his women to bed.
And we know there is nothing like the
Crimson of my lips,
Crimson of his blood from battle wounds.
And the blue of the music,
And the blue of our souls.
The silver moonlight of our nights,
The deceptive white of a piece of paper or a bed sheet.
(Nothing like
The lavender
And lilac of me.)
We are a breathless mural
On a wall of a hotel room stuck in time,
Beside these black and white photographs locked
In sorrow and ecstasy.
And we
Shall crumble with it.
And the heart must have its armor
For the gunshot that might come -
That there may be nothing,
Nothing at all to find
At the end of a kiss.
(Or at the end of love.)
Missed Me by The Dresden Dolls : https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-5jtmIddb7k
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