Well, I know you think that you're in love merely due to your unfamiliarity with all the crazy shit that comes along with catching my fancy.
Well, the stone walls of my fortress, dear, are vastly higher than those of your perception.
Well, to see me at all, dear, you too, must grow tall,
and try discerning my cryptic directions.
My distance may offend you, but, trust dear, the warmth in my eye. If you catch a glimpse of affection from me, some day, you might find you'll miss me.
Well, my fingertips that dance and grip will distract you momentarily but don't expect me to cuddle back with our minds so completely off track. Well, having no clue as I signal you, you rip pages from my open book to slander me on some dirty stall wall, complications of your lovely hooves.
Well, I'd like to think we'd somehow syncopate, our odd rhythms complementing the other, but instead, we've burnt the bread and our dough fell before it was rising. Well, time will not erase your case, broken hearts hold no statute of limitations. Well, I'm sentenced to life delving in the strife of only knowing your touch so briefly.
(c) 2012 Moriah Haven Lawson