a room of mood indigo, dipped in a dimly lit glow shares it’s ambiance with my focus meditation is perpetual, in it’s execution near no nonchalance, approaching where hope is the hues spin, when there’s trumpets chasing a crescendo's the assumption a few hymns, simmer the tempo, before there’s concussions to be clued in, since, it’s unclear if she’s blushing
this here’s a discussion... unembraced do attachment’s mean nothing the body encases ones thumper to keep thumping my poems clone my face, so she’ll eventually see something there is no, just in case; she'll see something
she will... it’s obvious it’s a matter of ideals, not novelties when i see her see me only once were her eyes not dreamy i see me, not scheming, not daydreaming not leaning, away facing towards, chasing more, of her; ok i love her... i heard me wonder
if we were under, a blanket, naked... would you feel safe encased in slumber, in my embrace would i feel the same we don’t heal the same; you recover so much time’s been claimed... & i’m still the same saying, then praying your name; being stubborn