Monday, 20 October 2008
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Currently Listening
Little Voice
By Sara Bareilles
Undertow
see relatedThis is the way it goes, with you a part of it
"Come up to meet you, tell you I'm sorry. You don't know how lovely you are. I had to find you, tell you I need you, tell you I set you apart. Tell me your secrets, and ask me your questions. Oh, lets go back to the start. Running in circles, comin' up tails. Heads on a science apart."
There's an emptiness in her chest, hiding behind her t-shirt and her fears, and I could see it growing that afternoon in the still heat. I could have said something rather than look at her with quiet worry, but the tears forming behind her eyes stopped my breath in my throat, and I could only listen to the pain hanging off of her words like dead skin. I should have known then. She comes and goes throughout the day, drifting in and out of my thoughts, resting on the back of my eyelids when I blink. Riveting. Spontaneous. Tempting. I'm drawn in a little closer each time, tripping over a curious smile, getting trapped by the sparkle in her eyes. She crawls into my sleep at night, so effortlessly and gracefully that she's not out of place at all, and every vivid dream makes me want her that much more. If she gave me a chance, I'm sure I could fill up that emptiness that's taking over her, erase the fear that lives beneath her rib cage, make her remember what it's like to be happy. But would she believe in what I had to offer? Would she trust me to catch her? Would she want it to?
Later, my loves.
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