And I will trace my i love you's up and down your spine
in script so fine, you will not perceive,
But maybe a Y or V or U will be the clue, will be my undoing,
But then again, you might not believe.
I lie awake nights, the hard edge of your wooden bed
cuts like a nagging thought into my side.
Our bodies speak a language our brains cannot stifle
and our hearts cannot deny.
I've always looked better in the dark anyway,in whites and blacks,
ebony-haired and ivory-skinned.
Here and there a bit of gray.
Or blue in the light of the TV, close your eyes use your hands to see me.
I'm sure they'll have no trouble finding their way.
I don't want to be just another, just one more lover on your list.
You call it virtue, I call it the last bit of will that I have.
But your obsession's with the texture,
your obsession's with the answer to a question
I do not think I can ever be.
I guess I just gave up too much too soon, I've got no secrets left to tell,
no new temptation to draw you in.
I can only play the song of myself so many times before it sounds tired,
and, baby, you've pulled all my strings.
My skin might burn, but I am not a raging fire,
I am slow and warm and subtle. I simmer but I do not spark.
I am not made for arson, destruction or damage
and it's only those who hurt who leave a mark.
I'm sorry I've run out of falling leaves and falling stars,
Shimmer, sparkle, flicker, fade.
In the summer I'll be too warm to sleep beside,
But still leave you too cold to keep.
© Heather Lloyd
"Embers was a response to a comment once made to me by a guy
I was attracted to but refused to sleep with. He said that made me
'virtuous,' and this person was not a very excellent example of that
term. It also was a reaction to a fear that I was 'uninspiring.'"