you looked me in the eye and it was clear -
as my fingertips traced the outlines of your veins
(i can feel the blood flow)
i realized that you were already flowing through my own
(it makes me feel alive)
you were my heartbeat, dancing slowly inside my rib cage
(it felt like our favorite song)
standing firmly on my mind, calming my soul
as you slept underneath my skin

so if you are my peace, my tranquility -
then why are there moments of dreadful silence
(the calm before the storm)
when i can feel the fear rattling deep inside my bones
(it whispers run, run, run)
if we are supposed to be one and the same
(don't you dare look back)
then why do I feel like you are my Vesuvius
(he will bury you alive)
*and I am your Pompeii?

his is my conception flawed
most Patina proned
the imperfects,
                                     they
                     fragment
       become
at its surface
       wanting
life's reasons
                                     cracks
                   chaffe
of this
        creation and eternal question
the layers meaningless therein
the death of sunlight
setting perfected
another day
to feed tomorrows imagination
much
         displayed in each rotten liars face
covered over some past
smothering and building above
and fragrant dreams
should fuel brashness misdirected
purpose that
             for all it is
be it found to be lacking
                 it bears the knowledge gap
famed no known muse
or compostion worthy
notedly proportional whites and
other shades, emotionless
calming,
the sediment settles
to touch the muddy surface
consideringly well intended
another day,
         another to shine
less than
                        perfect
is          
        and those
that demand
a concept placed uncertain
determined and truthfully in the rught
hopefully atleast as to face
forced gazes
                    accusatiions
                              a reflection
my face
              that
looks back
            upon one


                               uwanted.