Snow Patrol ♫ Set Fire to the Third Bar

i smell like you,
you smell like me.
finding ourselves
in each other

i can't get you out of my head
can't wash you off my skin.
can't wash away my most recent sin.

tried to wash off the x's on the back of my hands
but the sins that my heart and my hands
conspired to commit together
would not come off.

no matter how hard i scraped and scrubbed.
i could not learn to regret the sins i loved.


the swell season ♫ the moon

a haven.
a heaven.
an extension of her apartment into the sky.
balconies, porches, front yard, back yard.
always been patches of paradise to me.
that's where i met you.

where i loved you,
for a number of hours.
hours colorful enough to taint me for a lifetime.
colorful enough to paint me colors i couldn't hide,
not from everyone else,
not from myself.
in those hours unseen,
under the watchful eye of the sky
and only the most high
we made love with our words.
refusing to sleep,
refusing to stop.

our thoughts
our glances
our grins
crashing into one another
and landing upon our bodies
crashing on to shores that were
unexpectedly &
coincidentally familiar.
[but you should know i don't believe
in coincidence.
i don't believe, i feel.
& this doesn't feel like a coincidence,
you feel like fate.
you felt like a dream.]

our thoughts
our grins
our glances
making their way over to each other
interlocking and lacing through one another
like our minds.

our hearts matching,
unintentionally sick for one another.
maybe you only felt it that night, maybe you never felt it at all.
but i felt it every time thereafter.
i felt that memory carve in to me even deeper every time thereafter.
i felt your words sink deeper into my skin every time thereafter.
i felt your arms wrap around my waist as the sun rose
i felt my body pause for a sudden intake of breath
i felt my mind stop for a sudden intake of a pleasure
that looked more like pain.
every time thereafter,
i come out here
and make new memories,
i am already thinking of the one.

the root of all roots.
the memory within a memory.
this dream within a dream,
it must have been,
because it felt real but
it was perfect.
you were just too perfect.