It pains me.
I'm eager with sorrow,
like running under water.
How can I always be so close in proximity to you, yet so far away?

It does feel a great divide within my sadness, to the joy I want to provide.

I sit on potential
but I'm gifted
I inch forth with provential standards,
though they could be tighter
lose ends not gathered together,
in seeking wealth of wonder
he stares into the air,
his soul floats out of his body,
some days I never see him walk that way.
Some days I never see him talk so candidly, some days he won't let me be alone,
some days he wants nothing but his phone,
though everyday
he sits on the edge of hope.
Praying for his joyous self
to get weird with lovers notes.

I always wanted to mean more to him.

The sparkle in the side of his eyes,
tells me the tears are just under his lids,
and being at work, I feel powerless to provide him my soft words.

Him.
He.
The King.
Whenever I talk about him,
I surround myself with his movements.
I don't have to force the essence of his heart to move with in my mind, though I feel on the outside looking in when my heart walks through his essence.
When my heart walks through his movements.
When my heart calls to be I his ambiance.

Strangers evoke his emotions before I ever got to kiss him....


I'm the worst friend
to the best Him.
And his hands do some much more than pull you in,
they stem from the light,
protecting your fights, that you have with the mirror.
His kiss
is a thousand of my lives memories of true and constant remiss.



if I were a pond, he would always walk around me, never to it.

I stood on the thought that he would always stare into his reflection, and never through it.

But he doesn't.
No. he doesn't.
he isn't vain at all

His landing is soft,
his feet in the air are excited,
he dances in the heat without a care, as he stares into the sea of people wishing she was there.



The more I think
the less I know,
I haven't seen his emotions show.
I've heard them
but didn't respond.
A callous her.
For a rock of him.
he feels emotionally burdened.
My energy has lead in its makeup.


I hate when I leave him at work,
I think he hates it too.
Not just that, when he takes time to come talk to me, our conversations are buoyant floaties, but we're never in swimming in a fire we set on purpose.

I am beginning to get an impression, that If I made the proper words appear, he would want to be apart of the conversations bloom.

I want to listen to him.
I just want to listen.
in hopes to offer support.
I feel your sadness, King.
I know what you have been through.
I'm sorry I have labeled you every wrong thing,
though it's difficult to learn you, when I am ever more, talking to Him and never you.