I want to chisel away That outer layer that calloused My voice, It's always toughest when The words bounce of like A hardened clay I did not Mold,or intend to mold, But shapes I don't recognise, Climb the ladder of your Walks that you take alone, Whenever you come back You seem to have ascended To some higher place, An experienced wall Between us, The hindrance of your sweet Melancholy that seems to Grace the dead petals at the Sunken Gardens, where the water drowns The plants but is still the life Of all that is, Breathe, I want to understand Why I don't understand, And why each time I ask You, you gaze up at me And smile with those Eye's of solitudes, You confine me to these graces, And I forget why I asked At all....