by Jaron chandler
Over and over, again and again
Too much is in the way.
The sight of her sparks a freeing sensation, a blaze of infatuating curiosity.
And as I ponder, I wander, I begin to shift to the worlds that exist only when I'm dreaming, when im fully susceptible to my wonder.
I secretly want her, I secretly want to hold her, and feel like I'm not alone.
I want to be drowning in the waves of emotion that wake in her intoxicating aura.
Shes what I want, but can only have when I dream.
the world is ours when I dream. These spaces are a little less lonely when I dream, the air is easier to breathe when I dream.
But there are walls that by code I cannot breach.
The one high I cannot reach.
And by the mocking of the old crows screech, I feel I'm doomed to watch this flower bloom by the light of another man's heat.
The devil on my shoulder cries, to hell with your honor, bloody the man who wont honor her, while my angel implores that I mustn't haste that which I cannot change,
Oh. how I wasted time sitting idly by, blind to the beauty in front of me. I hadn't shone the light she deserved, the light she needed to flourish.
I watch her now, in bloom, in someone else's garden And inside i die a little more with each passing second of this paralyzing predicament.
Each second I want to curl up fetal, wishing I had hastened that which I could've changed long before I allowed this much to get in the way.