So
for sullen, but oh for beauty, to know it passes; and oh for
smitten,
the heart to quake, to rake emotions. It was more a
grain,
for pain to whisper, to feel for comfort. Years build
walls,
plus aesthetics, to worship in silence. We see an image,
a
gray impression, a childhood image. We see for you, a
feature
in a maze, ablaze my soul. It’s but a moment,
covered
in icing, a taste of sorrow; and less to hear, to fear
for
sullen, a stranger’s voice. The passion roars, to blare the
Isley’s,
to feel a beat. We echo love, to vibrate distance, to
lose
for slumber. We lumber flame, to till a forest, a drifting
thought.
You die so boldly, to rise so coldly, a psych on a
stranger.
What for pearls, a shaded verse, to jog a feeling. We
give
to it, to live through it, all night to drip for souls. Its
music
a phrase, a cave my soul, to ghost through public.
You
gave so little, to reap so much, to hush a second thought.
We
spin bottles, to sit a closet, to kiss a wrist. Its vat to
heart,
a vatic moment, to trim a voice; and every vibe, an
invite
to beige, the deepest between. We vest in Teflon, to
melt
through cakes, shook amidst feelings. The mornings
were
nights, a sense of heavy, pulling at coffee. It’s now
for
sullen, a tint of joy, to stream for contrast. We turn left,
to
venture right, to bless where soul’s churn.
