In colors, smeared all over your face
Colors dusted on your clothes
I want you shaking off swamp waters
And dripping holy sweat
I want to line your face
From your eyes to your ears
In black kohl
I wanna put you where you belong
On a pedestal chair overlooking
Ripped scraps and banana peels
I wanna get down on my knees and worship you
Well look at us,
We’re in love again.
But it’s best for you and I to lay here on this grass next to each other
and look at the sky.
We’ll probably have nothing to say, but only a few sentences when something strikes us.
We can make love voicelessly, wordlessly, exclusively, and passionately by letting our bodies and souls fulfill each other’s helpless need to feel complete, to feel befriended, understood, accepted, worshiped; to find some sort of purpose in this confusing life.
But I don’t want to be discarded by you tomorrow
And I don’t want to discard you tomorrow.