improvisation is the heart of my craft
a gift given before I was born

I do not know where words will go
but its my wand in a world of negation

Living a niche, an unusual stream,
I meet with lovers, singing our songs.

She says,

"Open up your eyes to me," while we were on a blind date.
Some opinions come a bit late; early remarks are great —
And there’s a fearful much of men, of that phrase,
"oh, I'm late."

But I fear when she's running late for our date,
And secretly isn't coming anyway.

So my eyes remain shut; as from first interactions,
It looks for us, this thing isn’t going anywhere!

Hopelessly devoted to you
I long for you to
Caress and undress me delicately
Yet, I yearn for the heart you’ve burned
That’s to never be returned
Coated by your touch aware I’ll never be enough