Author: Speechwriter PM
-OLD work- Perhaps another day, you'll touch my life, through this wall of amber. And the alien sensation I get as I hear your silence will be mine. Oneshot, SSRated: Fiction K+ - English - Drama/Angst - Sakura K. & Syaoran L. - Chapters: 3 - Words: 4,109 - Reviews: 26 - Favs: 10 - Follows: 4 - Updated: 06-29-07 - Published: 06-26-07 - Status: Complete - id: 3619217
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
but I view you through a sheet of amber, molten
frozen, stuck in bubbles of gel, golden
your image distorted, giving off vibes of confusion.
I view you like through blown glass from a different world
where you're no longer trapped there
And still I write.
and my breath catches
as I hear snatches
of your conversation, carried on the wind,
a window into the box
in which you're sealed.
You're the one who skates alone at the park. You're the one who talks to the ones I'm scorned by - no one.
I wonder if you even saw me as I asked you to the dance? I know you were thinking about something else, maybe asking yourself if it was a dare? I think deeper and look back at myself, pitifully standing in your wake like a pathetic animal waiting for its master to return.
My heart stops as I stop walking
my friends keep talking
and you brush past me,
a plexiglas coating sealing the wall between us.
You don't even feel me.
I curl up against the bus wall. A huge bump, and some people lift right off their seats, whooping in delight. I merely scrape my face on the screws jutting from the plasticine walls as I watch you from behind.
and withdraw your essence into its holder
and I drink of you, shivering a little colder
and want more.
And yet you walk by, unaware of my desire
to reach out and touch your life
You're the one who sits alone. You're the only one I really want to talk to.
Admiration from afar
And when we talk, you're remote, far away
And I think, perhaps another day,
you'll touch my life, too, through this wall of amber.
And the alien sensation I get as I hear your silence
will be mine.
Maybe tomorrow I'll see you.
Maybe tomorrow I'll know you.
Maybe tomorrow, you'll notice me.
Maybe tomorrow, you'll love me.
You don't stop, you just keep going
in that world, you continue flowing
with the people around you not even there.
This is tomorrow. I finally stop and plunge
into the deluge of sticky change.
You finally halt.
And see me.
And feel me there.
And breathe me.
I finally know you
and smell you
and as I brush against you
my obsession is fulfilled
and for us, trapped behind that wall
we don't remember
anything before I crossed over.
I look at my poem.
If only it were real.