and this is a place i’ve been before
and this is a place i’ve seen before
watching his chocolate eyes search within the reflection of anything and everything…
he touched the surface of my conscience, waiting for the ripples to begin within
my heart, to begin
within
the heap of dreams inside my soul
piled there like clean laundry waiting for a
fresh pair of hands to fold
but his ripples came with distortion, contortion, it all became dsymorphic
my dreams converged with memories, my desires converged with melodies
sung in familiar tenor tones,
yet a voice i knew not to be my own
my own soprano theme subdued beneath the means
of self-discovery
that weren’t really meant for me, fettered to your contrary schemes,
playing out unwary scenes and losing myself in our routines,
seemed i didn’t mind losing me to find your dreams.
and so the heap of dreams inside my soul
growing moss and growing mold,
sprouting negligence for negligees,
thread bare, left there, lying in disarray
passed by for the chosen right of way…
chocolate eyes and hands on my surface skin, ripples, quakes, tremors, shakes;
my hazel eyes opening to your mistakes.
people are imperfect reflections, with our opaque complexions,
i was not your means, your queen, your pedestal, your play-ground.
i was not the place for you to **** around.
left skeptical by your lechery, your ability to capture me,
self-identity came much more dearly…
what i’m trying to figure out is who to be
and this is a place i’ve been before
and this is a place i’ve seen before
and it’s 'cause i washed up from the other shore, that i’m. ready. to. break. free.
Apr 11, 2012
Apr 11, 2012 at 2:35 PM UTC
and this is a place i’ve been before
and this is a place i’ve seen before
watching his chocolate eyes search within the reflection of anything and everything…
he touched the surface of my conscience, waiting for the ripples to begin within
my heart, to begin
within
the heap of dreams inside my soul
piled there like clean laundry waiting for a
fresh pair of hands to fold
but his ripples came with distortion, contortion, it all became dsymorphic
my dreams converged with memories, my desires converged with melodies
sung in familiar tenor tones,
yet a voice i knew not to be my own
my own soprano theme subdued beneath the means
of self-discovery
that weren’t really meant for me, fettered to your contrary schemes,
playing out unwary scenes and losing myself in our routines,
seemed i didn’t mind losing me to find your dreams.
and so the heap of dreams inside my soul
growing moss and growing mold,
sprouting negligence for negligees,
thread bare, left there, lying in disarray
passed by for the chosen right of way…
chocolate eyes and hands on my surface skin, ripples, quakes, tremors, shakes;
my hazel eyes opening to your mistakes.
people are imperfect reflections, with our opaque complexions,
i was not your means, your queen, your pedestal, your play-ground.
i was not the place for you to **** around.
left skeptical by your lechery, your ability to capture me,
self-identity came much more dearly…
what i’m trying to figure out is who to be
and this is a place i’ve been before
and this is a place i’ve seen before
and it’s 'cause i washed up from the other shore, that i’m. ready. to. break. free.