The bitter cold snarls and bares it’s teeth,
With a clenched jaw and fingers tightly wrapped
Around a secret but known hidden sheath.
Bravely but terribly gazing into the dark.
I’ve seen it day and seen it night.
Seen it in reflections of paintings and in men
Of a terrible manner; men of a hideous nature.
Seen it in questions asked of “where” and “when.”
Seen it brush against the tips of my fingers,
But too far off to grasp or possess.
Too far off to hear my whisper, “I beg you, yes.”

Seven rows of dreams deferred.
Seven more scolded and deterred.
Seven last better left unheard.

And so I’ve heard their cries
From time to time, and seen
Their looks; entertained their lies,
And they were always filled with mercy.
Kindness, sympathy, pity, and some shame,
And I would admit that that being that is best.
For if the scene were to reach its crescendo,
If questions were asked, answered and put to rest.
Then where would we go from there?
To a thousand simple thoughts,
A hint of passion, a little wit,
To the blackest crevice of a burrowed pit

Seven rows of dreams deferred.
Seven more scolded and deterred.
Seven last better left unheard.

Hopefully, soon, you will forget my name,
The tyranny of courteous chains, relinquished.
Broken, buried, but survived by shame,
And wouldnt that be what’s best?
And would you notice?
How I sink into defeat,
As a thousand thoughts replace a thousand more;
Of how you’ll see my little retreat.
And will you see past the space in my eyes?
Seven galaxies between you and me.
Filled with lines crossed, broken, and blurred,
Laid out neatly before us, word by word.

Seven rows of dreams deferred.
Seven more scolded and deterred.
Seven last better left unheard.