You won’t talk to me about what I’d like to hear
I need to know
your mind and how the world sits and becomes whatever is
perfect
I can get to the bottom from the top and
Pick from what’s left during the early morning but its still night
You won’t talk to me
when I want to hear what’s needed from you to get
the feelings I need to have when I want to feel you
I can somehow taste the inside of your brain
as you did talk and,
but your head is open and I no longer see but digest the talents you developed while ignoring the knowledge and conversation
I gained while trying to meet you and practice my walk and look
I sat
In the library in your path and at the park on a bench while you read and stared around me to become inspired to write about the nature of love, musically and lyrically
but now you can’t and,
but I can lick your thoughts and know your secrets are mine savoring
your favorite song you played before you penned
but…
-Lyrical Love
