Slight.

There lives a storm raging,
continually changing,
expanding and taking all it sees
in the deepest recesses
of my soul.
It twists and writhes
over seas, over mountains,
over every thing that breathes
and reaches out of me.
The slightest detail on my face
is read to mean the curious thing
beneath the surface.
So close, outsider, observer...
You're so close but you're a little more
than off.
Don't try harder, don't get caught
in the storm that rages in my heart.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Sweet Medicine

Because...

But Whatever Do You Mean?