We're lying on beautiful seashells, sound asleep in a sweet hug. We're framed like a perfect picture, like a poster or a Valentines Day greeting card. Our feet are constantly washed in saltwater, tickling our skin while a gentle breeze turns sunshine into a golden dance on our cheeks. This is a lover's lifetime dream, and it seems to have been granted to us only. It's not the first time something like this happens. Many say I'm lucky.
If only anyone could see that my mind is making faces behind my mask of frozen beauty...—
Are you really sleeping? I've kept my eyes shut for too long, and I see amber sparks everywhere when I turn my blind eyeballs around. You could say I'm dreaming —if you saw me, of course —, but all I can think of are these stupid seashells. They're stabbing my back, disposable daggers from a hidden sea god. I hear you sighing. Is it happiness, or do you feel all that innocent-looking calcium reaching into your flesh too?
I can't breathe too well. I haven't been able to breathe for as long as I've been with you, anyway. Life with you is full of fixed smiles, those which make one's muscles ache while countless cameras are being prepared. My heart feels like it's been smiling all this time, and every beat aches in desperation. Can't anything be imperfect? Can't a day be boring? Can't I spill my coffee— my words—?
Stop holding me. Stop striving to be this picture-perfect boyfriend, full of picture-perfect moments. Stop making every second an everlasting moment. I'll shake the sand off my clothes and walk into reality, where edges are blurred and people stumble when they walk, where oblivion rises along with the sun every morning.
If only anyone could see that my mind is making faces behind my mask of frozen beauty...—
Are you really sleeping? I've kept my eyes shut for too long, and I see amber sparks everywhere when I turn my blind eyeballs around. You could say I'm dreaming —if you saw me, of course —, but all I can think of are these stupid seashells. They're stabbing my back, disposable daggers from a hidden sea god. I hear you sighing. Is it happiness, or do you feel all that innocent-looking calcium reaching into your flesh too?
I can't breathe too well. I haven't been able to breathe for as long as I've been with you, anyway. Life with you is full of fixed smiles, those which make one's muscles ache while countless cameras are being prepared. My heart feels like it's been smiling all this time, and every beat aches in desperation. Can't anything be imperfect? Can't a day be boring? Can't I spill my coffee— my words—?
Stop holding me. Stop striving to be this picture-perfect boyfriend, full of picture-perfect moments. Stop making every second an everlasting moment. I'll shake the sand off my clothes and walk into reality, where edges are blurred and people stumble when they walk, where oblivion rises along with the sun every morning.
