"Something about songs and starlight... The world is kind of a dull place when you have nobody to share it with..."
Leather and gasoline.
Light slanted through the half shaded window as dusk slowly broke over the busy city, creating an illusory sort of calm that would only last a moment.
"There is no reason,
but your laugh fills my vision
with watercolour.
sing your sweet melody,
and I will mine.
Maybe then,
starlight and sunshine
will mean a little bit more.
Maybe then
'bleak' will be a memory
And even the score..."
Blue eyes gazed at the ceiling, out of focus, as if something beyond the off white of the smooth plaster was calling their attention.
"Something about romance... Fluttering hearts and fingertips..."
Obsidian, almost black, but not... He wondered vaguely why that colour had so much hold.
Did somebody mention glances? accidental, but invited. Shying away from possibilities, but wanting to know so much more...
When people sing about love do they really know why? Or is it just the contrived assumption that everyone has fallen at least once before? Is it an assumption that 'love' is something everybody finds...
Sandalwood, incense.
The sun was going down, shadows getting longer. The male singer toyed with a ring on his pinky, watching the shadows grow long and seemingly endless.
Raven Black, something that should be threatening but isn't.
"Photographs, Polaroids,
Pixels, black and white,
Colours splashed
across well worn surface
We painted and rebuilt
What could have been ours
what was meant to be
Seemed all to different
In the end there was no 'we'"
The brief moments we touch, a brush of skin against skin, accidental. Not uninvited.
Did somebody mention butterfly's? Not real ones... The proverbial butterfly's. Is there a word for that? When your heart beats too fast and you aren't sure if the ground is actually water or you've just forgotten what standing feels like.
The singer hummed a soft sigh as he sat up and stretched, assessing what had been written on the page before him.
"It seems a little funny
nobody would laugh
If we knew what was really
happening to us
Maybe there could be a 'we'
Maybe all those contour lines
Really did form a coherent shape
And I was just too close to see
Colour on colour saturated
Heavy and complicated, fixed
But it's hard to separate What's real
When 'I love you' doesn't exist."
It was sappy, he knew. But sappy sold...
Words, thousands of years old, ringing clear and calm.
The lights should have been turned on by now. Everything was either grey or black. A nonexistent world made of shadows swallowed everything in its wake.
"But for now it's 'bleak'
Your watercolour runs
It fades and dissipates
I'm waiting.
Here everything is monochrome
And I know nothing
Of stardust or candlelight
So please come soon
And wash the world clean
With oil and turpentine
I'll stay here watching
While you fill in colours,
crystalline."