Vent

ˌsīkōsəˈmadik

I paint this house in your name
I throw against the wall a variety of colors etched into the shapes of emotion
They drip, and splatter
And I am nonetheless satisfied

I paint this street in your name
I dash the doors with
Notes that once screamed your name
They echo
I am nonetheless satisfied

I paint this district in your name
I demand it understand
He tries, he cannot
I am nonetheless satisfied

Your name is a stranger to me
You built my foundations
And ran set
I am figuring out the map of this town
I feel calm

I cry for you, the door
Having only ever fit your key
You shield with dismissal
We can see through you

You paint this house in my name
You let the ice melt,
In let the light dear man
You feel interest

You paint this street in my name
You attract its warmth, and return with
Presence. It is delighted to be painted by your hands
You feel safe

You paint this town in my name
The crimson of the sheets, the silent walks together
It reeks of me
You deny
You feel longing

We both have colors we pay attention to most.
To divert our minds from the obvious, from the unspeakable truth
To distract of our magnetism
You know your town is perfect
And it knows you
I know my town is in pain
And it knows I'm there

Yet we run as far in the opposite direction of the other
Knowing one day, some how
We will slingshot into each other with a dangerous impact

We sit in silence, begging the other to speak
And we hide

I wait for the day your lips once yet open
And I'll paint this world in your image