I thought of a line
I could cross
If only I didn't misstep in the first **** with redness
Swapping bodies, seemed like swordplay
Trust was borrowed, like time in the place of battle
Cry if you will, in the dilemma of letting and let life take what it has to give
Commitment to your own doubts and drawbacks might not be living
If you do not learn to let go
I thought of a line
I could cross
Depends on whether you printed it and declined the advance
You could learn a few lines of a variety of virgils
Looking over the conscientious  daffodil
Like many flowers passed by my window
Beautiful like a writer and a rainy day that comes in livid pragmatic migrant
You learn to observe reality and keep as your own
But, that is just your interpretation
I could see through those tearful eyes when I loved for the first time
Looks like you cry over the same cracks of time
Crooked and prelude