Slow batted eyelids
Breaths subtracting by the second
Core stern and steady
Covering of what is
You don’t know what’s inside
But I wish that you did,
Though I will never tell you
Or show you what’s within.
Looking into an eye
An eye of confusion
Curated and made to distort
My fault you can’t read me,
Can’t tell what I want.
Because of your terrors
I paint nonchalance,
No more I can handle
I stand in fear
leave with my thoughts.
Though love still endures
I feel finished and done
I pray dear oh Lord
Make real the nonchalance.