If I do write you a poem,
then I might spill my tasty tea
and soil the ground on which I hope to walk.
Stars in the sky,
in the shape of a heart reaching for your touch.
The sands of the beach.
The music of each wave after wave, reminding me of several goodbyes.
The last one was always going to be the last one.
Until it wasn't.
But would you be a blessing?
My blessing?
Or maybe I'm only just in a hurry,
Chasing after something that'll turn around to hurt me.
Get a kick in the jaw cos I'm pretty unworthy
of your awesome sarcasm and your full scale playfulness.
I smile a lot, you do too.
We've got things in common even though I try to act faulty like Dtube.
But "Is it right?" is the question and not "Would it work?"
There's a spark, most likely derailing my train of thought.
I'm running into fences I built for my safety.
Trying to break them down like I'm screaming "Satan take me".
It's stupid and a lot more on the side of crazy
but it is what it is.
I don't even know why I write this
It must be all part of the madness.
The madness.
A curse?
