Repressed Soul

The intricacy of the thoughts rendered... strike me like electricity quickly tiptoeing through my veins, the concealment of your emotional state leaves me like summer in the threshold of autumn.. sanctioning me to disdain. 
The brief responses grant my mind to wander endlessly into black forests with high trees, or bestow permission to venture out to secluded islands with pink  never ending crystal granules and lightly refreshing sea breeze.
The inability to convey your entrenched state leaves me desperate for avenues to ignite your furnace and allow you to manifest heat to me, 
effortless gestures or facile phrases, overall creativity. 
The past quandaries leave you numb as a mortician desensitized to the limp bodies that are witnessed everyday, as you slowly fade your facade and then nimbly pull away. 
The tenuous instances where you drain your beating organ of every solitary emotion, then deposit white crystalline solid chloride into my eyes from the ocean. 
Your repressed soul leaves me numb as a concrete, begging for an outlet replete with abandonment, yet enlivened every time you transmit you words of imprint.


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