Why waste my breathe.
When you can't listen to anybody else but yourself.

I'm not sorry for your lack of patience.
But I am sorry, you lost me.

Because when the roofs on fire
and my life is falling apart.
It's okay to be the fool.
Because he's walking off a cliff with a smile on his face.

So who's really living their best here?

I send her roses each and every day.
     She asks for reasons, they don't satisfy.
     This heart's expression is my only way
     to answer each and every question, why?
She plants each one inside a large glass vase.
     It fattens in its bulky green-red width.
     She waters it hourly just in case
     this bulk shrivel by one rose-breadth.
In truth they have no petals and no stem,
     no color and no subtle fragrant scent.
     The vase is her awareness of them.
     They are but words of love my passions sent.
For I am but a poor and broken soul,
whose love for my dear love raises me whole.

(C)2019, Christos Rigakos

But if only
for a moment of time.
You could take a walk inside my heart.
To gaze upon the feelings I've been conjuring up for you.