in decay

Posted via email from Michael Owen Hill

Take a look at my body
Look at my hands
There's so much here
That I don't understand

Your face saving promises
Whispered like prayers
I don't need them

‘Cause I've been treated so wrong
I've been treated so long
As if I'm becoming untouchable

Well contempt loves the silence
It thrives in the dark
With fine winding tendrils
That strangle the heart

I'm a slow dying flower
A frost killing hour
The sweet turning sour
And untouchable

Do you remember the way
That you touched me before
All the trembling sweetness
I loved and adored?

They say that promises
Sweeten the blow
But I don't need them
No, I don't need them

I need
The darkness
The sweetness
The sadness
The weakness
O, I need this

I need
A lullaby
A kiss goodnight
The angel sweet
Love of my life
O, I need this

Well is it dark enough?
Can you see me?
Do you want me?
Can you reach me?
Or I'm leaving

You better shut your mouth
And hold your breath
Kiss me now you'll catch your death
O, I mean this

[Natalie Merchant, My Skin]