I am somewhere in the rainstorm, pressed over the line.
Heavy-heeled my footfalls echo, in the decadent halls of your mind.
Across the light and through the space of dislocated time;
your kisses find their way to me, our hands are held in kind.
Memories and dreams are blurred, by their al-ter-nates.
But your role in this world my dear, is un-mis-takable.
Don’t care to be an inmate here,
imprisoned by your silence.
The key to this a simple thing,
I need you to give in.
Or else it’s back to war for me,
and never to be seen;
the lucid striking beauty of
that which is yet to be.