…t at some point
become concrete…
but look close and see the cracks
and spaces, feel the openings
and know that I am incomplete
I cannot read minds
I cannot fly
and I cannot slow down time
I don’t have the embers
to keep your fire going
I don’t own a bullet-proof vest
and my greatest riches
are untrue words
written on ice
waiting for the sun to shine on them…
that’s why I hide it all in the dark,
so that it all stays frozen there,
cold and living,
escaping the rotting glow of natural light
and yeah, maybe we’ll do more
than this little dance of barely
touching hands —
of needing some pretense
to actually reach out…
maybe soon we can just be direct
and tell one an…