Nuance. (Stream of Conscious Poems Updated Weekly)

Splendour of Another('s)

Canto my soul('s) a riptide ebbing, some sort of unique style threading,

My ye-olde-beauty, my old school thoughts,

Flourish and flounder alone in my ruts of her apparition

I begged my friend to pay attention to the things,  

of loss of less and thoughts of blessed,

No longer a simple quaking

Her soul some thought was mine for the taking,

I knew of a broken screen where I could whisper songs,I looked at the grass the rustling as soft as it all,My belief was of honor, to be a whole person,And yet there was some sort of old tycoon who wrote a dirge for the verses of "American Pie" some sort of music gone down town to where the bones were.Nah, there is no ribbed bones I can grip—not lovely purse, just the radiator hum which hides my dollarbills, and cleanses it from the grime its been passed. A gust flows from the air-conditioning, I sweat the Pheonix sweat, with my hands curved over each other and my eyes all wet.I've never seen a bird cry–aside from wailing

walls, it sat, walls it sat, and my thoughts I relate

I approach the bird, but a child with smiles, runs towards it, 

and the bird flies again, another time