Heat of my bones

3 glass window front door, it seemed to always be shut and I always waited for you to open it.
In the pit of my gut I could feel the fire boiling over as my blood scorched. Where you ever going to arrive?
Stuck in this 4 bedroom ranch house with conformity as the oxygen, I was struggling to survive.
Time clicked with each hand turning on that grandfather clock and my eyes filled with water, just hoping to float to a more familiar world.
My dreams promised me fate, my mother wanted me to stay the same but my flesh curled from the heat of my bones.
A stigma of being plagued with secrets that were seemingly sins, riddled with passion deemed as devilish.
What words drifting from their empty mouths would do to my tattered and bent spirit.
No one knew no one knew, how much love meant to me and I could not love you.