Rising to fly.
Your chest rises as you breath.
A tiny gust clenches and released.
Eyelids twitch and I,
I start to believe.
My sight traces your eyebrows and the full of your thinned hair and I know love.
I know care.
You cry like stuttering ducks at first flight, like a rainbow seeking light all fidget and fright and I,
I rock tightly.
What I want and need are somewhat the same thing.
Autumn leaves and purity, humour and to succeed.
The water rippling on the lake, the silk against your skin.
The water in your eyes, the drowning in my sin.
What I want and what I need are somewhat the same thing.
What is it you do not bring?
You perfect little thing>