I may not love like I once did, but seeing a frown on your face is something hid

hid from me and from the world, only you know the mute curl

i asked you to make me hate you, but instead I fell in love with you

a perfect imperfection, a perfectly mute selection, tends to bend at my mind's bind

lined with words and thoughts of her, splurged onto a electric canvas for her

a writer, a singer, an artist at that, but if you tell her these things she will seem to stay sat

Unknowing if moved or if sadness has consumed, but that stops 

 

 

 

what is the point for me to love someone that at every turn has showed little back?

why do I continue these endeavors of heart and mind just so she can pull the levers?

as stitched as I am, I continue to spam, just as grass goes back to a lamb.

eaten and chewed, it continues through, to provide the lamb with ideas of such a demand.

why do I continue to be eaten and chewed? Is it love or something new? 

For a man that knows everything, I still couldn't tell you, she's interesting at that, always smashing my hat.

she doesn't intend of doing said thing, possibly, but she does either way, and every time all I do is stay.

you must think of me mad, old and sad, for such a young lad would continue his life to be a man.

but happiness is not abundant as for he that lives the life of such a sheep.

my happiness is different, even I resist, but in the end it is a giant twist.

unloke others it isn't with with power or thrust, but something more suttle that lays upon the dust,

its not found in everyone, 2 out of 260 such potential for intelligence is always entertaining.

does she not want me to love such a lady, does the torture of before an intention to escort me away?

if she wants me gone so be it and stab, for a push would just make me hold her beautiful and perfect hand.

a land before time and a land before thought is something that upon her presence is brought. 

Sought out by none, but me, the specific one, who seems to take pleasure is such a thought. 

My wishes are many, and many overdone, but I will always wish for the sun, 

whether there's fire or whether there's snow, it will be something to make my mind glow,

how do I show she's worth the low? A paragraph here and a paragraph there could never bear the words I know.

I'll live in a box with my clothes and socks and sit and live in my refrigerator box, I'll think of she and I'll smile for she

did more than me, I'll sit in spite of the hunger at night and the thirst for a water so pure, but not to worry it'll only last a couple days,

or possibly weeks, how my cheeks  fill with leaks, how much I will speak to my weak and broken body, 

signed with the mark of darkness, wrapped around with its harness, pulling and tugging on my life,

but it is not something of fright, but something of happiness to save my life from the destruction of today's life,

a bit of mercy, with a bit of pain, makes it all feel the same, it will help me feel sane.

 

 

how beautiful a specimen of exotic proportions, that even a distortion couldn't sway her importance

 

how her hand performs so elegantly, smooth and steady, or shakey and sweaty, performs something a woman could not

she isn't a woman, but far above, I've told her this, she must know what I thought of.