What I want to do now
Is to kidnap you, kidnap us
From this suffocating day-to-day,
From piles of heavy weights on your shoulders,
Hopping on a convertible, your hands firm on the steering wheel
We’re driving towards the falling sky,
Meteor showers above us,
I’m in ripped jeans jacket,
Broken aviators on your nose bridge
Crooked and scattered souls we both are,
Your blood on my shoulders because they are shooting from behind
in front, from the left and right
“Fear not, my darling…”
I throw myself over to shield you,
“I’m not scared. I love you” – the last words uttered from my lungs
as you’re screaming
But you can’t hear me crying.
Tears on your shirt, I beg you not to stop.
And then come the bodies of yours and mine,
Burried deep in the woods, until one final lightning strikes
You’re my flame, for so, I have turnt into dust
We’re nothing, yet each other’s everything.
All they’re going to find is one rusted sky-blue 1957 Chevrolet Bell vintage convertible,
and charcoal remains of a love so short-lived,
That’s my dream.
(Picture courtesy: http://www.eastlothiancourier.com)