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A special message for that someone out there who is supposedly busy burying his nose in piles of notes.

For lack of better words
our tempers swallow us.
For if we were to speak,
rattling words of never-ending tongue twisters,
our ears would fold.
An air tight lock to stop the bleeding.

Drift. The storm pasts.
Still, I can hear your thoughts.
Like daggers to my heart.
The stirring of pain in your voice.

Is it me?
Am I too difficult?
A tight grasp of hands.
A promise of forever discovery.
Forever love.
Haunts me.
The image clings to my pounding head.

A sway of hips,
a toss of perfectly refurbished hair.
My vision takes a stab at the blur.
The yearn, the conformity.
I am nothing like them.
How will you love me?

Face it,
the truth
I am permanent.

and I love you.

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