Hartaches and Larksongs

You're A Fire Because I Say So

I don't want your eyes

looking

at what's inside

me.

You won't find yourself there.

You won't find yourself...

My friends say

we look together-ish

and I wish

that

I could be that

one who

goes after you, 'cause you

go after all that I am

But these are all What-If and I let myself sink

back in time spells.

Your symmetry is blinding me so much

more than it ever has.

Let me look at you just

once

in time all day again,

through the sides of my deadened eyes

You're beautiful and you

see that while I'm

just another me.

Just another what is

she should know how I just stay to look;

Like a looker, inside

an old store.

I think she knows

very much

of us is gone or was

never there at all

Yes I touched the side of your left hand with the right

of mine,

when we were supposed to be praying....

I never thanked you properly.

And I can't read through the things you say,

while I'm stuck in months of May.

Guess who rescued me for the team. Last year when their

laughing noise, on purpose,

mixing with the pain sticking in my head

and arrows dripping everywhere.

You won't know this at all

that, when my friends say

You look together-ish I

hold my breath and say no -a dozen times again- you do

things you do 'cause you

have to . And

you did that 'cause we

needed man-power.

I stopped painting with sweet razors

when you put snow

brushes in my hands,

while telling me to be a man.

So I make fire of a blizzard and

the slush drops at your feet

and you make puddles

wash a town I'm

not quite clean enough, but

As they say, wheatstones should be rough

above a dulling blade,

and sliding with some kind of grace

and the blade curls around the middle

of the (back of the)

rock

and torrid, in the hands

of a smither who treats daggers like a lady

should be loved.

Like when fire melts a metal

when it kisses it enough.