what do they call you?
do they have a name for
the art that is happening
inside your head?
I don't know
if we should've met
earlier than this day
it's like the past and my thoughts
just drifted away
as you arrived and decided to stay
you know
people think they read my stuff,
but they try to read me instead
and
it's not that I'd regret that I opened up to you
it's just that I want to make a secret of what you and me
non-secretly do
I don't want to post
every kiss of you,
I don't want to make videos of
the way you smile
yes,
I'd like to have a photograph
of you wearing your glasses
or
you making breakfast at 8pm,
but that's it
and
now people read this stuff
and still
no one knows what I am really talking about
and that's what I love the most
for the first time
I really want to treasure something
like a good old memory that's happening right at this moment
does that make sense?
or does it sound too crazy?
I ask myself
what do they call you?
do they have a name for the art inside your head?
did someone already title your heart?
or would you like me to instead?
cause I talk to friends
they watch me smile
when I mention your name
it's not that
I've just got sex on my mind
to be honest
most of the time I think about us
standing at this bridge
trying to hold hands without being too nervous
I think about us
collecting vinyl plates without a record player
I just have to trust
in what I feel and what I really say to her
still
I have this picture of you
coming home from work, while I am half-asleep
cuddling into me and under the sheets
for me
this is what it really needs
to know that I want you
more than
observing your clothes and how to come through
every layer
just saying
so what do they call you?
tell me the truth of your name
there is magic behind the way you spell, you smi-,started, you say
what I really need to hear
and I am st-, sh-, stu-, you make me stutter
you really make me feel like melting butter
I can barely utter
what's going on inside of me
we began to take lessons of getting to know the other
something about
you loving to drink wine
something about
my eyes really starting to shine
it's crazy
but I really need to learn your language of how you feel
still
you didn't need the words to tell me the things I want to hear
I need to know your name
do it with your lips
print it into my skin
touch the top of my hips
I want to let you in
and that's what makes the skips of heart my beat
makes me skip my heartbeats
so this is me writing
I don't know
if the friend of yours
will cry again if he'll read the stuff
I write about you
I don't know
if you'll lose your voice again,
I don't know
but let me try to be your helping hand
in case you want someone to stay for more than a night
be sure that it's the other way around
and that's the reason I'm so quiet beside you
I am watching a dream of art
and I am starting to realize
that it's true