When it comes to putting what you are into words do you trust yourself? I understand there are many ways for another to mistake their symbols for your sound I've been wrong about more things than I care to count and I still try to count on all the things up in the air that I haven't nailed down but my love is so unreal it's getting kind of hard to figure all this unreality out. Harder than stilling shaky hands from all my mental pacin around and impossible as that one poem I read to you aloud. You know the one about how heaven and hell are also just trying to figure each other out. I can imagine the view from up there and believe me I know my sleeves shouldn't be so ******* filthy because from this distance and from what I wear, some may confuse my heart for the muck all the love I've tasted with a pinched nose trying to stem disgust I could never wash any of it away but
I should remember I do remember and recall much that has made me into someone I love. Born of dirt and trying to be enough. Just two in the running tally, of my error. There is no volume control for my daydreams and there are no knobs for this kind of radio so when living poetry around the clock you either you dont like the song or your driving foot gets a little heavy and the windows come down. Faster, faster coming to me faster across lines that blur into the trees that blur into the blues. My favorite song, a kindred color that without I wouldn't be able to see you Dancing on the edge of my vision blowing bubbles in a see through room I've made out of the words beauty and grace glued together with tiny memories of your face.
One eye staring from over a pillow full of a moment we'd rather stay awake for. A tangle of your hair bolting across your cheek I liken to drinking black coffee and those electric lips owning the words that almost drown in the wake of your thunder but I'm listening and oh god I hear you. Sounding down my spine with lighting striking from your mouth into mine. Under a storm of blankets and mixed limbs that become the eye A perfect stillness a weightlessness where there's not enough gravity to go around for all my weatherfall still there rain snow and shine stuck hanging mid-air you are a timeless weather woman with no need for percentages because you give me what I've always known to be real that the other forecasts predicted only to exist in a halo eternities chance approaching zero the circle that's but a fraction of an instance colored in you totally smothering me slowly in a symphony sparing no noise impossible to be wrong about the correct answer nobody ever told me to jot down and baby I've been tested I graduated from broken records and the bad side of town from black sheep flocking to darkness with clothes shaven from the light Top of my class with a degree in acceptance at a university where we take left and use it to make right. My friend, these are some heavy credentials so I hope you understand the weight behind my certainty in your footfall. I'm some authority on mistakes and heartbreak so treat me like a scholar or a weatherman with forecasts known to account for everything and the decimal. A dotted i Hear me place the you in me down to a point the one I'm making with all I've ever been wrong about beckoning us but never doubt.