Pillow Book: Zero
How do the stories begin? Should I say, "Once upon a time"? Weave a tale of a lonely boy, His adventures in a strange world, His fall, his rise. Or perhaps I ought to begin thus: "In another world, in a bygone era, A prince stood at a window Waiting for love to claim him."
But this is neither fairytale Nor heroic saga; The lonely boy, the lovelorn prince- I'm shivering. I'm undone. I'm waiting for you to read me.
You tear me to shreds When you stare through me. You reduce me to pulp When you whisper. You erase my heart When you walk away.
Still, even so, You etch new life When you catch my gaze. You leave poems and prayers When you breathe my name. You color my heart When you touch my face.
Read me tonight- Your favorite story, Changing, infinite: Read me with slender fingers And ardent lips.
Every scene you can imagine Flows, from your eyes, into mine. From my lips, you draw the words: Yes, love, yes, yes, yes. From shoulder and torso, You craft tension and suspense. From the navel, and all that follows, You shape the crisis, the drama, The moment of clarity.
And in your arms, The story resolved, Whispers and caresses Close the chapter On this tale That is ours: My gift to you, For your eyes, for your touch, for your heart only.
What awaits the lovelorn fool tonight? Will a blazing angel transform him with a kiss? Will he meet Cupid, and live to tell? I live to know. So do you. Come closer. Time to open a new page.
How do the stories begin? Should I say, "Once upon a time"? Weave a tale of a lonely boy, His adventures in a strange world, His fall, his rise. Or perhaps I ought to begin thus: "In another world, in a bygone era, A prince stood at a window Waiting for love to claim him."
But this is neither fairytale Nor heroic saga; The lonely boy, the lovelorn prince- I'm shivering. I'm undone. I'm waiting for you to read me.
You tear me to shreds When you stare through me. You reduce me to pulp When you whisper. You erase my heart When you walk away.
Still, even so, You etch new life When you catch my gaze. You leave poems and prayers When you breathe my name. You color my heart When you touch my face.
Read me tonight- Your favorite story, Changing, infinite: Read me with slender fingers And ardent lips.
Every scene you can imagine Flows, from your eyes, into mine. From my lips, you draw the words: Yes, love, yes, yes, yes. From shoulder and torso, You craft tension and suspense. From the navel, and all that follows, You shape the crisis, the drama, The moment of clarity.
And in your arms, The story resolved, Whispers and caresses Close the chapter On this tale That is ours: My gift to you, For your eyes, for your touch, for your heart only.
What awaits the lovelorn fool tonight? Will a blazing angel transform him with a kiss? Will he meet Cupid, and live to tell? I live to know. So do you. Come closer. Time to open a new page.
