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By Rhetoric Date: 2001 Sep 17 Comment on this Work [[2001.09.17.10.30.1617]] |
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When I have discovered all the pieces to your heart, I will then make my move. You are sentimental and strong. I fear the trembling and fumbling of my speech. I must place them all out on a board; I will not miss one single clue to my capture. Each week, each day, brings me closer to feeling you. I sit and ponder strategy and momentum. I need to focus on your face. With patience, I can figure you out. This I know: you are kind, your voice is pleasant, and you enjoy the spring. From these pieces of cardboard, I recreate a moment. She torments you and scatters my picture. Each encounter fills me with a sudden frenzy; I must look deeper. I must search out you. There is a you that even her moods cannot provoke. One day of shouldering tears and lifting chins sends me Closer to you than I have dared for years. I sit quiet and soak you all in - into me and my puzzle of you. I listen with purpose and squander away seconds in a smile. You are my porcelain doll, fragile and pretty to look at. I learn your tortured tales and take each morsel with anticipation. Just as soon as I can define the very last scene, All of you is blown away with empty gestures. I comprise melodies and sonnets of glory to you. She offers convenience and Friday Nights on the river. I struggled to replace lost circles and misshapen paper treasures. Can this have a happy ending? Will I one day know you? I believe I am merely passing your time while I watch eyes, not clocks. You have your own master plan. You look to learn clues and puzzle pieces of another. What am I to do with all this love spent on you? Who will yearn to touch my puzzle and weeping eyes? |