stripped bare

Tears and Rain – James Blunt

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There’s a wonderful, slight breeze in the air. I can see the pine trees in the distance swaying, as if they are listening to a mesmerizing melody. A melody I can’t hear because I’m listening to one of my own right now.

How I wish I could surrender my soul;
Shed the clothes that become my skin;
See the liar that burns within my needing.
How I wish I’d chosen darkness from cold.
How I wish I had screamed out loud,
Instead I’ve found no meaning.

The path around the pool are getting dotted, like dustings of cocoa powder, and there are cheerful ripples on the surface of the water. I guess it must be drizzling. There’s a large umbrella above me, and it provides sufficient cover for now.

I guess it’s time I run far, far away; find comfort in pain,
All pleasure’s the same: it just keeps me from trouble.
Hides my true shape, like Dorian Gray.
I’ve heard what they say, but I’m not here for trouble.
It’s more than just words: it’s just tears and rain.

Can you smell it, the mysterious scent that precedes the rain? It smells like everything I love: fresh air, flowers, vanilla, lemons, silence… my Amortentia. Soon, even the sturdy umbrella will not be able to shield me. The wind will pick up and the rain will pour. But will I feel it?

How I wish I could walk through the doors of my mind;
Hold memory close at hand,
Help me understand the years.
How I wish I could choose between Heaven and Hell.
How I wish I would save my soul.
I’m so cold from fear.

I looked up and realized I’m not alone. A woman is sitting on the stone bench at the edge of the pool, looking into her mobile phone. A man was walking slowly and aimlessly around the other side of the stone bench, bare-footed. He is now lying down on a deck-chair, his hands behind his head.

I guess it’s time I run far, far away; find comfort in pain,
All pleasure’s the same: it just keeps me from trouble.
Hides my true shape, like Dorian Gray.
I’ve heard what they say, but I’m not here for trouble.
Far, far away; find comfort in pain.
All pleasure’s the same: it just keeps me from trouble.
It’s more than just words: it’s just tears and rain.

The rain is dropping, in large teardrop-shaped pellets. I feel them on my face, drenching my back, dripping down my arms. I am reluctant to leave, but I know I have to. I glanced at the two of them, alone in their thoughts but together in their loneliness.

Are they reluctant too?

Written by smudgi3

August 22, 2007, Wednesday at 23:45

Posted in Moods, Perversion

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