Desire and Fear: Of Making Sense

I never meant to torture you; I am so sorry that I lost my way. You insist that I ever had a way but I can't remember that being true. My map
is soaked through and my ink roads look more like smudged makeup and tear stained skin. I have no path mapped out.
I thought I did but everything is the same color out here and my compass only points to me. I wish I could just hop a train, any one, and find myself
along the way. The conductor would help me off the old charming locomotive and I would be a new person.
Whoever that was who caught the train at the last second now has white gloved hands and knows where to take her yellow cab.

I'm sorry for whenever I stopped making sense. I guess I have misled you.But if any lie, it is white with a halo. Perhaps I made you believe I was sure of
myself. I'm sorry if you hate this love spell, I too wish that you had seen how very sad I was from the beginning. Maybe you could help me though,
it would seem that I've misplaced my rhyme
and my reason. I forgot what it was that I was holding, it's not even between the couch cushions.

My mind is spinning too fast and too often and I'm sorry if my peg is square. I don't know how it got so sharp, though I'm positive we could shave it down.
You know you drive me up the wall but I wouldn't want to stick with me either. Maybe we're denying the truth. Some could say we've grown apart
but it looks to me like you're the only one doing the growing - I've not even sprouted yet? When I really think about it, it looks like you were always
grown. When you found me, you were bending your knees. And then your muscles ached and you stood back up straight; you were up there and
I'm still down here.

I hate those thoughts though. I hate them I hate them I hate them. Between my bitterness I overflow the cracks in my sidewalk with adoration for you.
I don't want to be misplaced keys. I want to be back on the beach in your arms. I want to feed the birds and hum that song
from Mary Poppins. I want to kiss you on a sandy blanket and listen to you breathe over the nearly lapless ocean. I need those hours
desperately back or to have them again. I think of nothing but you.

Together and alone you are my calm; my sun and the whispering breezes that make my hair tickle my cheeks. I cling to those hours, they are the
ones where you save me and I feel sane enough to save myself. I only wish that it woud never go away. (It does when we get back to the car)

"The flower that blooms in adversity is the most rare and beautiful of all" - and I shall bloom. With water and sunshine, I will come about.

I will spring free from the mud traps and skyrocket from tickling your toes and nibbling your fingertips; I will grow until I can kiss the stars
and you among them. Keep a look out for me so we don't bump heads.
Love me still,
Please,
Love me always until and after that.