I've been having trouble
talking to you, and it bugs me
no end
Why is it that when you start gazing into someone's eyes,
when you start calling them 'darling' or 'sweetheart'
language changes, words fade
These are such fragile words - the tongue barely touching the roof of the mouth; the lips forming a brittle 'O', a soft, swoosh
Sweetheart
'Friend' is stronger - the teeth nip firmly over the bottom lip. It's a word that stays. And stops when it needs to.
But we don't want that, do we, my love?
We want soft blue waves for words, or even silence
Conversation is too stark, too sharp, too noisy; why, if it were a colour, it would be neon
And romance is painted only in pastels, so the books say.
talking to you, and it bugs me
no end
Why is it that when you start gazing into someone's eyes,
when you start calling them 'darling' or 'sweetheart'
language changes, words fade
These are such fragile words - the tongue barely touching the roof of the mouth; the lips forming a brittle 'O', a soft, swoosh
Sweetheart
'Friend' is stronger - the teeth nip firmly over the bottom lip. It's a word that stays. And stops when it needs to.
But we don't want that, do we, my love?
We want soft blue waves for words, or even silence
Conversation is too stark, too sharp, too noisy; why, if it were a colour, it would be neon
And romance is painted only in pastels, so the books say.
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