the Ghost and the Doll
v0id Matsumoto
30/Jan/2002 Wednesday, 4:51PM(+9:00GMT)

I can't remember when it was 
the first time that I ever stepped into 
that white room flooded with sunlight 
under those veils flowing with the wind 
he lay there, forgotten and unloved
wide eyes that spoke of murky innocence

Fate seeped in through the cracked sky
which had then been sheltering us
a heart-wrenching countenance
between the doll and the ghost
--he, who had forgotten how to love
and I, who have remembered how to hate

Yet, as I painted his features
features that were etched with a foreign sorrow
a foreign sorrow that seemed so transparent
all hurt and anger seeped out of me
All isolation that had been built up
in that white room flooded with sunlight

Yet the icon named Eternity 
has always been an object of the past
that crimson hair's fragrance was suffocating 
as I held him for the last time 
the truth that was tinted a lovely red 
almost as lovely as those torn feathers.. 

We were no more than two lost doves
He, a dove with its chest pierced through 
and dyed red, by the thorn through its heart
I, a dove with a wing of an angel,
as it should have always been
with the other torn and deprived of flight

Time seeped in through the cracked ceiling
which had then been sheltering us
Time crept by and took my beloved with it...
He left me with an image of him on my canvas
with the isolation that had been built up
in that white room flooded with sunlight

As I stared at the canvas, I stared
In the face of the mirror of myself
with features that were etched with a foreign sorrow
a foreign sorrow that seemed so transparent
All hurt and anger seeped out of me
...With that, I have forgotten how to love


http://xz0ne.cjb.net
voidmatsumoto@yahoo.co.uk