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....