AN: I've become obsessed with references to dancing... sorry.
On with the story:
*
Tasting Possession
I say your name and it burns my lips, hot and full of forbiden tastes and unwanted lust. All that you are: another story of star-crossed lovers. Another cliche. Another stolen lie.
And still, we continue in this imperfect waltz, our steps never changing. A dance full of hatred and torn up hearts. And it all continues. And here it is, a story re-told, one that you've already heard (at least once before). The story of another pair. So caught - caught in a net of inner struggles - as we try to survive.
Save me, Frozen One, from depression's hot grip. The lust is eating away at me again. If I try once more to escape perhaps I can. Or dig myself deeper into the hole where your heart had surely been before. Before me?
Why does it pain me to injure you? You, the one I hate. You still haven't gone. You continue to haunt me, the parasite you've never realised you are. Leave me as I was before.
I cut at you, and I bleed. Fast red rivers that stain my hair (already red) and somehow tastes like nothing. Oh, that nothing taste. And my own blood glistens on my lips, but not on yours. You have no lips. No lips to feel that tasteless taste. I open my mouth and the air tastes sad: like fallen stars and broken dreams. My broken dreams.
Take my hand, Dream-Breaker. Pull me into your sweet oblivian, pull me over you. Kiss me with my lips, Dream-Taker, touch me with my fingers (I'll touch you back, Dream-Faker). And take me with you, Lone-Dreamer... Lone-Dreamer that I'll never have.
I hate the confusion, I love the confusion. Dizzying intoxication. When you see with my eyes, and breathe the same breath as I do, I find I have no place to go, but with you.
It always comes back to you, doesn't it?
On with the story:
*
Tasting Possession
I say your name and it burns my lips, hot and full of forbiden tastes and unwanted lust. All that you are: another story of star-crossed lovers. Another cliche. Another stolen lie.
And still, we continue in this imperfect waltz, our steps never changing. A dance full of hatred and torn up hearts. And it all continues. And here it is, a story re-told, one that you've already heard (at least once before). The story of another pair. So caught - caught in a net of inner struggles - as we try to survive.
Save me, Frozen One, from depression's hot grip. The lust is eating away at me again. If I try once more to escape perhaps I can. Or dig myself deeper into the hole where your heart had surely been before. Before me?
Why does it pain me to injure you? You, the one I hate. You still haven't gone. You continue to haunt me, the parasite you've never realised you are. Leave me as I was before.
I cut at you, and I bleed. Fast red rivers that stain my hair (already red) and somehow tastes like nothing. Oh, that nothing taste. And my own blood glistens on my lips, but not on yours. You have no lips. No lips to feel that tasteless taste. I open my mouth and the air tastes sad: like fallen stars and broken dreams. My broken dreams.
Take my hand, Dream-Breaker. Pull me into your sweet oblivian, pull me over you. Kiss me with my lips, Dream-Taker, touch me with my fingers (I'll touch you back, Dream-Faker). And take me with you, Lone-Dreamer... Lone-Dreamer that I'll never have.
I hate the confusion, I love the confusion. Dizzying intoxication. When you see with my eyes, and breathe the same breath as I do, I find I have no place to go, but with you.
It always comes back to you, doesn't it?
