--lmh. Thank you for accepting me although i hide myself behind a sarcastic, mean, asshole type of person.--
My words were paned in copper, not paved in gold.
They worked on hardwood floors, never knowing a red carpets feel.
They dressed in hand-me-downs and worn out shoes
While fancier words received all the appeal.
It was repulsive to see how flushed skin could get
Knowing I’ve never received such blush.
I don’t know how they speak so sound
When all they say is not all that much.
I could tell you
How every molecule of your skin
Danced with perpetual perfection
As if you were rooted in Plato’s dreams
Yet still too impossible
For him to believe in.
I could explain to you
How every soul finds a chamber
Inside of another dimension
That holds reason before logic
And love before lust
And the only way to find it
Is to hand your heart to someone else.
I could write to you in poetry.
I can write to you in prose.
I can turn a poetic nuisance
Into an ebony juxtapose
Yet I cannot find the words
That take away your throes.
So seeing your wonderful blush
Is something to which I’ll never be exposed.
