Oh, you and your vigorous vibrant eyes to which I still tremble...
I noticed your fingers tickling on the sheer white table
So delicate, softly picking up what you desperately needed
Leaving me ever more clues, I studied your moves in admiration
Then you opened your little package of cigarette addiction
Aware of that I didn’t smoke, I was hoping you'd ask me for a lighter
You knew and smiled sadistic, seizing the matches out of your pocket
Predictably you puffed your nicotine air in my face, I did not blink
In my eyes you ascended, smoothly leaving marks as you breathed
You switched that cigarette from hands, as you fetched yourself a drink
Inhaling fast with full greed, you unraveled slow motion out of time
All the smoke and mirrors thickened, surrounded you and drifted,
as a sign of claiming what you own, it was certainly not mine
After all I did to you, do you still want me back?
Or is it me who is the slave, already sold?
I looked again and stared helplessly at your red dress, curved in lines
It had to be expensive, because it glowed with the evening light fading
The only thing lacking was more of that cheap red wine
You didn’t care for the wooden door behind you that slammed closed,
causing your sweet perfume to rise in my senses as it crooned
Everything you let me in, no secrets, as all was exposed
Surprisingly you smiled again, baring your white teeth to me
I remembered so vividly how pleasant they were to look at
Tension was building up, I had to do something before it was too late
Not knowing what to say, I just said what first came to mind
It were not many words, but you clearly were offended
As it seemed I crossed the line, I had to go pass it eventually
You showed me the door to insecurity and desperation
I turned around when I saw everything I could not have
They still resemble all those things that are wrong
Everything you do is a metaphor...
*** herschreven, 25 september 2004 ***