Wednesday, February 23, 2005

You On My Bed

If I knew how to create music, this would be a song. The words kept repeating in my head with a faint melody when I was heading home from the mall. I rushed to the keyboard and channeled away.
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You On My Bed

I miss your bed, your soft pillow ‘neath my head.
Falling asleep after all the pressures of the world have been shoved aside by your kind words.
I feel free when you stay beside me and touch me like you do.
Like no one else can touch me, like there was nothing else that’s true.

You know I miss you and your bed; I miss the time we feel no dread.
When I whisper in your ear and you nibble on mine so dear,
I just feel the time we steal can come to no end.
I feel your heart beating faster; can it race mine, my friend?
Hold me close and let’s pretend that forever is in your bed.

And after your warm mouth has gone all over me, and mine all over you, falling asleep and cradling each other was the next best thing we could do.
There were no promises, as far as I could tell, just “be there and wake me up”, and as for tomorrow, “who can tell?”
There are others who have touched me, true, but there’s nobody else like you.

You know I miss you on my bed, and all the times we feel no dread.
When we clasp hands and lower our defenses and we pleasure all our senses.
I just feel the love that we make can last forever and a day.
I feel your heart beating faster; do you feel mine, my friend?
Hold me close and let’s pretend that salvation’s in my bed.

And the sunlight comes, and the party ends, and the music fades.
So we’ll forget the night, and all its addictive delights.
Until next time.

Next time we’re cuddling on borrowed beds, I’ll feel you breathing near my head.
And when neither of us feels the need to bring it up, we’ll just live parallel lives instead.
We only care about each other in the secret ways that matter.
I feel your heart pounding in your chest, just like mine, my sweet, sweet friend.

It’s what we do best, lose ourselves in our beds.
There’s no pretending that our lives, yes, they change in our beds.
We’re changing in our beds.

2 comments:

sky said...

you composed this? such great hands!

and yes, long live college rock. which makes me think, maybe we're about the same age. good that you achieved fame already. i enviously wish i had too.

OLIVER said...

Thanks buddy. I kinda "composed" it. I wish I knew how to string together notes though. But thanks. I'm told I have great hands; I can do stuff with 'em. Heheh.

I'm older than you by about two or three years... I read an entry where you mentioned your age.

College rock, yeah, that's pretty much a big part of the soundtrack of my life.

But fame? Ahh, I'm not really popular. I live under a rock. I'd rather be influential. And rich. :)