I'm fluent in sadness
and you are in art.
We speak of the same language
and yet you remain unaware.

Taco Bell, my love,
You fill the void in my soul.
Take all my money.

as soft as the morning glow,
are words that come and go.
words that dance and play,
along with rhythms,
they flit and sway.
sonata, cantata, cadence
don't they wake
a sleeping good sense?
through whispers and
subtle strums, and stealth
what can't be seen
is heartily felt.