I think I love,
Not finishing my thoughts
The ones that lead to doorways
White doorways
With wood grain imprints
And a shiny gold door ****
Cold to the touch
I think I love
Not speaking my mind
When I should
When it's cold
And I'm warm
But it's crazy
All at once
I think I love
Incomplete thoughts
The ones that leave you hanging
Like the bandit
With the dusty eye patch
Hanging loosely
From that oak tree
Out my window
That makes me think
That I...
Well...
You...