A book with a missing title
That's how he thought of me
it hurt to be an idol
of a heart that never beat
his demeanor friendly
his hands warm
but his eyes were so dark
and his mind an unclaimed storm
be he not just a trespasser
be he not just a landscape
he was not a flyer
he was not a soarer
but he spoke in rhythm that didn't fail the ear
he spoke of songs that no one stood to hear
and no love
no hate
no emotion
but raw
was his beat
his heart
that never
would never
call
Nov 3, 2015
Nov 3, 2015 at 7:29 PM UTC
A book with a missing title
That's how he thought of me
it hurt to be an idol
of a heart that never beat
his demeanor friendly
his hands warm
but his eyes were so dark
and his mind an unclaimed storm
be he not just a trespasser
be he not just a landscape
he was not a flyer
he was not a soarer
but he spoke in rhythm that didn't fail the ear
he spoke of songs that no one stood to hear
and no love
no hate
no emotion
but raw
was his beat
his heart
that never
would never
call