it's nights like these that are the pinpricks
of galaxies inside clear
window fogging glass panes.
"these are the winters of our souls," i said.

"marking up the frost with heart tips and imbedded leaves."
while one arm's

reaching to cradle
a paper soft sigh.
and i'm reaching apart moth balls
to cuddle and keep something more than sunshine
even though there's none at night
i've got it all in my pocket

sitting next to me.
and your wearing that jacket.
with hair swept across the sleeves and a slight breeze
somewhere outside our silence.
i'll sweep the stars into the black hole of night

for another taste of this indigo in your lips.

..like vanilla
swirling in sanctity coloured reckless sighs
gasping steam on windows

“We’ll immortalize our names in hearts”

this is the conscious drip of senses,
climbing your spine and etching a place
for my nails to hide
scratching the careful swoon
of Robert Smith’s voice into your back,
mouthing along

“I’ll stop the world and melt with you”

your pulse muffles the static spills over speakers

“I can hear the acoustics better
with my cheek pressed up against your chest”

whispers set ablaze with ice
like hailstorms of pluto set to spin
“let’s each melt
in the other’s palms” of my hands
a romantic sort of blizzard
slain with the lips of a smirking lover,

we’re walking through fire.

...and i'm breathing in more than dewdrops
beginning to crystalize
beneath the ratted apholstery.

"i want to become this."

hearts splayed open with the softest
of scalpels, used to dissect my warm sighs.

"we can't get any closer with
distance, so we'll do it with words."

while the song is melting us into purple
shadow dancers, twirling until the
orange dawn does us part.
reeling with the scent
of cologne mixed
with leather seat memories.
"and we'll create our own fairy tales, right here."
as cobwebs

intertwine like fingers in the
corners of our dusted dreams.
since even musk is perfume
in our

reality. becoming one
with worlds of our own creation.

"i feel you in the way my lip parts."

in your each raspy breath,
you spin a desperate song to whirling
as a tenderness inside my wish-boned
and soggy ashtray fingers.

just like your spirit hums a tune inside
the music box of my lungs,
pushed to crash, still spinning...
dwindling as echoes shuddering up pines
two bodies pressed close in the soundless time
of digital clocks

I’m wrapped in your arms
and the end of a tape,

hot nerve-tension built in silence like a live wire
ours could never be dead, you said.

“we’ll make our own lyrics”

all this time, I’ve made my way across

the perspiration slips over your upper lip
licking to memorize how you taste
like a stale cigarette ash smells
hung, too, in my hair.. always seems to lurk
with the rust door handles

searching
to find heaven in the
shining black
of your eternity,
kept safe inside your rain-trickled flesh

and dry by the umbrellas in your eyes,

“I’ll keep your soul safe next to mine.”

permeating across my hips,
your hands brush letterless.
"i'll scrunch them to fit into our marrow."

and our songs we hum
the words our own...
effortless into the dawn breeze
drawing a canvas of our

flowered art.
"we make poems together."

there's no point in sleeping
when every moment spent is pulling out pieces
of each other and putting them away like a collection.
our plate of being
sculpted into masterpieces of each other's hands.

"i guess we just bring out the best in each other."

fingers always finding each other
and the stars inside our breathing.

I think it's safe to dream inside your arms.

Wow!
the fine detail let's us come really close to the scenes, making it marvelously intense
Superb********

Franziska

I think Franziska said it best, Misty:

"Wow!"

To which I can only add,

"Yowza!"

You had me at the beginning, and actually long before, but when you get to Robert Smith I'm in the scene with you, right there, right here.

I get you absolutely. You are really, really, really good.

Hang on, Misty; we are all in for a hell of a ride tonight.

Thanks and love, and don't change a thing and just keep doing what you're doing (which only you can do and which you do so magically); keep weaving these dreams and sharing them with us here,

your friend and fan and fellow wanderer (may I wander next to you along this road?),

+Stevie

Thank you Steve and yes you can wander next to me along this road...
As for Fran would like to thank you for ur shimmering comments..
misty..