My architecture for heaven, for you.

I say to myself, look at the mess you've made.
All just because there is a fear of resembling.
The man I know and once had to listen to.
Because he was marking wicked signs on my face.
Now they're scares, cuts and bruises. Healing slow.

Still even if the touch is good they hurt.
Even when I know it's fake, and all in my head.
A silly boy to believe him or to think of em.
It's okay to say what scares you....

Shiver, under the covers when the air is dead.
Without my lover to cure my head aches....
It feels like amputation without whiskey, or scotch.
So in the mean time I repeat the memories we conceived.
And damn they look soooo good.

Let's find a bed in the middle we'll stay until winters over.
Then we will break out and run wild in our domain.
The world's a jewel, a gift to you, from me, my world.
Simply putting my heart where it belongs.

Next to yours in a box.

Reviews

[Michael X]

Lee, this is a great poem, sentiment mixed with heartache, and suffering,
to give the world away, I really liked the imagery, and scope of depth. Nicely done.