Monday, March 2, 2009

Come home

Your hand is cold.
Are you nervous?
The corners of your eyes carry a little tear,
I see a reflection of desperation and fear.
Where are you dreams?

I feel so ugly and dirty without you.
I don't have a life anymore,
no soul or core.
I still have your smell on my skin
just like in the very beginning.

I feel ill and alone in my desperation
and scared mostly.
Like a little boy waiting for his mama to come home.
Come home.
Your place is here,
in a world without fear,
no more question marques or troubles
in all kinds of dark.

I fell in your embrace like a spider makes its web.
I don't ask for anything more.
My head is hurting, my bones are sore.
No more yesterday or before.