Have days ever taunted you to be candid,
impulsive, and
driven by lust?
Have words ever burned the tip of your thoughts, or
the coffee you sip with the tip of your tongue?
Have eyes ever stole a glimpse of your heart, or
the leaves off trees when the wind gets too hard?
You see
This night has just been born, It's maybe about an hour old.
And I know I'm too lonely to handle the things you say,
And you know being too honest leaks translucence
It goes astray.
You see
I have been told before the idea itself is a mimic.
Along lines of a half truth hiding in the droplets,
They're hanging off the metal bar grills
of some balcony
on the 8th floor
(somewhere)
