All contemplations circle our connection,
Even the simplest conversation is testing,
Utterly speechless, at any given moment,
Perfection so brief, then silence,
Has left me broken.
For another muse I scramble,
Every minute I cannot handle,
The beauty of blossoming,
The agony of not knowing.
How you must be so blind,
To the way your grace defines me,
And to how I have fallen,
Completely.
Jun 14, 2010
Jun 14, 2010 at 11:55 AM UTC
All contemplations circle our connection,
Even the simplest conversation is testing,
Utterly speechless, at any given moment,
Perfection so brief, then silence,
Has left me broken.
For another muse I scramble,
Every minute I cannot handle,
The beauty of blossoming,
The agony of not knowing.
How you must be so blind,
To the way your grace defines me,
And to how I have fallen,
Completely.