I went to meet her family the other day, which was surprising, seeing how she’s told me countless times she's an orphan. I’ve got an addiction I guess, and only certain people know about it.
I love it when she pulls the shades down and stops the moon from peeking its glaring eyes in on us. She likes to wear dark make-up, which is pretty hot considering she has the greenest eyes I’ve ever seen, and the brighter than the sun gold cross she wears around her neck glistens ever so brightly off her dark skin.
Reminds me of the Spanish Angel’s Willie and Ray spoke about in song years ago. You know the song? About a woman who loved her man so much, after he died in a gun battle against the Federalalies of the old school South, she picked up his gun, knowing it was without bullets, just so the coppers would blast her down and she could go with him to the promised land. Because she knew that she couldn’t be without him.
I hope I make her feel the same way. She’s told me she loves me. I know I love her. But I can’t tell her, I’ve tried too, but each time, the words just came out wrong. Perhaps I’ll tell her I love her in song? No. Did that for another years ago. New plan.
When I talk with her, I talk in riddles, unknowingly. When I answer, it comes out as a whisper. All the attention in the world isn’t enough for her. To her it is. But I need to give her more so I don’t fuck this up. The memories of yesterday keep getting jammed in my head and they scare me. I can’t take it anymore and I want them to leave. Memories of the things I’ve done in the past to push the very few I’ve loved away scamper into me at night. I hide under the blankets like a little boy afraid of the rain.
I gotta do the right thing. If it’s this or that, I don’t know. Holding her hand as she’s beside me, breathing the air from her lungs, looking at nothing in her eyes. I will hide in shadows no longer.
Nothing seems to brighten the dark and gloomy things I call my heart and soul any better than seeing her beautiful face, smiling, while she bounces about the floor with the happiness of a small child. We pretend we’re alone. Her fingertips play the same song on the dance floor as I’m playing on the stage. She’s been hurt. I’ve been hurt. But I promise you, I promise her and I promise me, I will never have a reason to hurt her.
My heart feels like lightning, white lightning, burning brighter and hotter than it all. I guess it’s about time to learn to live again. It’s about time to learn to love again.
But, in all the ways she's like me, she’s not like me, and I don’t care. As long as she keeps coming with me, I don’t care what she’s done in the past. I’ll take her as is. I don’t care who or what she was in her past, as long as she doesn’t care who or what I was in my past. And it seems she doesn’t.
In my mind, I’m still a little boy. She’s still a little girl. But I got a feeling the Devil is ripping a hole in me. The things I was ashamed of, I ain’t anymore. The things that I used to do, I don’t do anymore.
Sleeping naked, under the blankets, kissing her lips. I want her to pull me from the stage and take me home, before it’s too late. And let me fall asleep and wrap me in the blanket of her soul.
Held her in my arms as she slept, without makeup, and listened to her breathe. Watched her eye lids dance to the music playing in her dream. And even though she was dead to the world, her fingers still played. All musicians are the same. You can take the guitar away, but the music never leaves.
The alcohol dried in my veins. And as I stood in that early morning rain, smoking a cigarette, those cool drops washed away my fears. I used to know what it all meant, this thing they call love. I think I’m starting to understand it again.
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