For something so desperate as to feel my hair, intertwined with your hand; soft-speaking- how can I consider myself the death star? For plain and simple need of a wedge beneath the doors we had opened to each other; a kiss; a hand, held on crisp occasions provided under cover of autumn leaves; to know that you would be here, to touch my hand when it needed assurances to run through my hair in times of great hair holding neccesities. To protect you- yes, to save you from the scourge of the earth; boys who walk without souls like vampires wanting pieces of your neck; whereas I merely wanted to sleep; corrupted, for certain want of physical comfort in purest forms. A body to breathe through at night, in chill, seeking warmth through you as I had always found it before we ever touched; warmth through you in winter. I won't feign innocence; but I was not so corrupted as in my inability to speak proper words for these things; to have to grow through this as if you were a coursebook and I am a failing student in a class entitled "the meaning of your life." I am not a malevolent destroyer of worlds; but I agree, I went from a soul, to a boy who could not find my way through what you presented; not believing in a perfection beyond love, beyond us- and so stumbled through, blind and lashing out to reach for anything I could firmly claim as ground, and when color returned to my black and white world I saw what gardens we had walked through and I had trampled on; but I swear to you I am no death star, no, I was here to save you from the likes of me; with the purest intentions of some comically flawed ego: You deserved the best and it would have to be me; even if it meant my worst to get us there. -e. _______________________________________________ Five7Five mailing list [EMAIL PROTECTED] http://www.pairlist.net/mailman/listinfo/five7five
