love-inthemaking

A dead, dark red room. Its creased, rumpled hands grasping at the air around me. A simple angle of light catches my eye And I see something Familiar, yet I cannot recognize the memory I am seeing. Bright eyes and the sun The figure which has emerged so restlessly from the walls of my room Is now smiling at me, Bright eyes and sun completely banished from everything And I let the darkness engulf me once again. I woke after only a moment's rest, Nothing to think about but what was behind My head, and what I thought was behind the bedroom door. Its eyes Sparkling helplessly, yet with every twinkle They only grew viler than before;