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| Beautiful Sadness, by Michael Parkes (detail) (c) |
when my loneliness sings me a lullaby
my fingers run along the waves of sweaty sheets
trying to find the way to the land of dreams that is you
It is at nights that i miss you the most
when my spirit is weak
and my body lingers
between the truth and the lie
you, with your hands of cotton
and your lips of honey
you, who comes softly into the darkness
and nests in my heart with wings of feathered memories
It is at nights that i miss you the most
and the moon
is dancing over my despair in a golden frenzy
because it knows
that my longing is bitter
and my yearning is sweet
like your taste as if you have kissed me
for the first time...
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