Sweet like candy

Dave Matthews Band: Crash

The rush.  The L.  It passed.  The sound resound.  Reverberating off the city streets below.  Announcing its arrival.  Its promise. 

He laughed.  They sat across from each other.  The meal.  The breaking of the fast.  The two sat.  Mere bodies perhaps, longing for nothing more than to crash into the other.  Yet.

Laughing, He told her about the mini concert that had been held in the space below, day before.  All the while the clacking of passing trains passed overhead.  Maybe they were little more than itinerant travelers dancing to the beat of the train above, or the music below.  Who knows?

He had come to the city for her you know.  For her.  Was it her move?  Her sway?  Or the fact that her soul sung a song that only his heart could hear.  She kept her eyes down at times.  That much he noticed.  It was the last day.  Each to each they longed to collapse.  Her fork fettered around her Irish breakfast.  All the while his eyes consumed her.

And the elevated bore her clack ever present in the distance.

She was so beautiful.  Her lips pursed just so.  To beckon, perhaps?  To recall as he was about to travel?  Who knows?  There was so much of him she still longed to know.  The hot, facts, everso pulsating.  Throbbing, for her.  His boys dream.  Loving.  Marching towards her.  Her body fashioned fine. Chiseled into her granite.  So alive.  So tight.  Pulsating lips were found on her.  Face.  So beautiful.  She smiled.  He fell in love.  Again...

and again.

Meanwhile...

The rhythmic clack of the "L" rode in the distance.  It's beat, pointing out the primal moves of those below.

Her glance, his laugh, the two ever closer.  Waiting, for what neither was sure.  It was the last day.  She ate her Irish Bacon, he his Blood Pudding.  Each wanting only to delve into the other as the beat of the day bore ever onward.

She passed to him the pieces she could.  He was not expecting.  He had given so... for nothing, save her.  Amazed, he accepted all of her... the gifts were so secondary.  She was the gift.  She was his.

In the lean forward he could help but noticed that her lips revealed the tension.  The L with its clacketity-clack rose above.  The rush of people forever intruding on the world created by the two.  Perhaps the city was too big... or perhaps the world of the two was too big.

"Come to me," he said, "melt with me, "he said as he pulled her into him.  "You are mine," he whispered as he drew her so close.  "My beautiful one, you are mine."  Bodies crashed together as he drew her into a pressing hug.

He would never let her go.

Meanwhile the L beat out her song above.

Somewhere

Pet shop boys: West Side Story

I still remember her last words to me... "What the fuck are you doing here?"  An excellent retort to a letter delivered that said "In the end I will find the right words, and they will be simple... Thanks for being a friend."  Not sure if they were ever read.  The letter was ripped in half ever so quickly.  Ever so.   Somehow.  Someday.  Somewhere.

Love is a battle.  Love is war.  Every piece of you given is forever lost.  But for every piece you give away, a piece is taken.  That can never be forgotten.  Somehow.  Someday  Somewhere.

I never thought myself to be Tony... the leader of the Jets.  I was alway the leader of the Sharks.  Little man struggling, She was my Rita.  Rita Moreno.  Her twist... her turn.  Every move showing defiance.  Could she.... would she... the backward step into me.  So simple.  Yet... so elegant.  Somehow, someday, somewhere.

Eyes pierce though the night.  A new chapter has begun.  They will carry over... but how much.  Glorious hazel might defeat the blue.  Who will win?  The Jets?  The Sharks?  It matters little.  The play runs again, over, and over.  Well find a new way of living.  Well find a new way of forgiving.  Somehow.  Someday.  Somewhere.

Hold my hand and were half-way there.  Hold my hand and I'll take you there.

Somehow.  Someday.  Somewhere.