My Low Heart is Encrypted in Gold

Your Love is my Pen

I take your speech and write it Bold

You lay over there trying to Learn

Why I feel so glad that I am Sad

Speechless

Like red flags in your Cold War

But I am locked in a War Room

I am still down here Dreaming

My mirror talks back to me Am I Dreaming?

I lay awake all night

Sad as rain in Summer

staring at the light

trying to find your gate

I find you staring profusely

dreaming in breathing out

you have pushed me to the wall

Oops they say I am psychic

but all I have within me is fantastic

but my tears fill up your room

God help me get this through

You asked me
If what makes me happy and sad.
I just laughed
Because you'll never know that
It's always been you.


You.

I think in waves. Waves of artificial emotions, deep desires,  run-of-the-mill repressed urges. I believe turmoil is the closest thing I have to joining someone in a receptive-giving relationship. Thunderstorms and tornados and every other body of the worst weather run within me. It pleads with the mind to over analyze any sort of life vest. Most of the time what I think is not what I hear or see or feel or touch or taste, these inner workings have a soul of its own. My chest is caving in, falling into its own pool of blood. A strong base will never compare to the weak beams inside each column.

cole 2015

Their love created a paradox
Like Schrondiger's cat of uncertainty
Great in theory, but not in practice

Unspoken words reverberates like the Doppler effect
A product of her own creation with undesirable outcome
****** if she do and ****** if she doesn't