An unrelated note on passion, strangeness and sadness

In your room, your burning eyes
Cause flames to arise.
Will you let the fire die down soon,
Or will I always be here?


Your favorite passion,
Your favorite game,
Your favorite mirror,
Your favorite slave.

I'm hanging on your words,
Living on your breath,
Feeling with your skin.
Will I always be here?

(Came home from a Depeche Mode concert in Zagreb...had it been a film, it would have suffered from some weak directing and a lack of visual(s) beauty; but it would have been so beautifully scripted in poetic sentences, carried out so easily by its two actors - out of which the performance of the ‘shadow’, the supporting part, would have been Oscar-worthy – and so full of genuine emotions, that I would have embraced it with joy and excitement at first sight anyway...)