Occam's Razor

It's the simple things-

Simple like the slow rise

And fall of your breaths

The rhythm of your heart

As it skips in your chest

Dancing with the demon

Never stopping to rest-

And it simply confounds me

That all the electricity

All the shocking and shaking

Has yet to break me.

Simple things are fragile things-

The catch in your throat

Whispering in the dark

The sun through the window

Rising with a spark

And the stabbing pain

Of being ripped apart-

The things I want to believe

Keep falling away from me

While I'm searching for a way

to remember to breathe.

What I want is simple-

The soft brush of your fingers

Slipping into my hand

A quick kiss in secret

Something you planned

A solid piece of your soul

I can use as dry land-

Let the demon play his game

Trying to lay his claim

Holding Occam's Razor to my neck

But I have no shame-

The simple answer remains-

I love you.