Pain Collector

When we saw each other, a god was invoked, In that silent eye-conversation, Now we talk with our own little secret jokes, Admiring the same constellation, Seems to be the ending of our blues My skin agreeing with your skin, My mind accepting the idea of you, Desire melting the ice deep within, We could love each other, you know We´re already getting used to our smells, I feel the passion-flower grow, I can´t keep from surrendering myself, This flower grows fast You can tell it by its name It chains together our chests like in that old Shakesperian play, And while we are high of her flavor, It aflames our minds and hearts, It´s in the top of its crimsom color, We can barely breath if we are apart, It´s cruelly smashed with a goodbye, Sounds of luggage being packed, Maybe some sour smiles You, gone and me, to my car, back, Lost like in a long-gone fairytale, And what was tender now burns me in regret, All you get from me is a memory pale, And all I get from you is another pain to collect.