I’ve been looking at your mind,
from the ink you’ve left behind.
Say what is there left to decide
what it is you did want to find?
As far as what my eyes can see,
what you try and do is to believe
all the ins and outs of your reality.
I see that you’re exactly like me.
I’m in awe of the things I saw,
so let me with my feelings draw
out those things that will thaw
the coldness; my heart is fraught.
Fraught with a fear sorrow knows
as the thing that impedes growth
of the strength knows my soul
that with you I would be whole.
What can I be to you if I can’t
contain, maintain or supplant
those things that make deviant
the things I do so convenient.
I do the same when I write down
the things my soul wants found.
I lack the ability to control now
my feelings and answers to how.
Of how I don’t really know when
I could ever love another again,
after my last love came and went,
my heart I feel has been so spent.
I’ve become not so brave to clout
what my shortcomings are about.
In the night I’m known to shout
and scream for life to let me out.
But seeing your passion grows
what my heart wants to know.
It wants no fear so it can flow
amid the darkness some do sew.
Let us gently wade waters friend
so the hurt can leave and I begin
to confide and feel love once again.
So I can suture my bruised skin.