I speak to the heavens, because they know my dreams.
Trying to call back my thoughts and memories.
Hoping they'll remember me.
The God of my reality and of the space that lies...
Between my thighs.
They speak to me. As I glide across the heavens and heed the sounds that speak.
In my heart. In my mind. Between my thighs. Through my third eye.
The rhythm doesn't lie. It is a love in disguise.
And it's hard to confide.
And keep quiet, shun and hide.
I don't know why I even try.
To speak these words as if they're mine.
Because they’re heavens.
And there's no real way for me to tell them.
Thank you, without sharing and hoping you, reader, understand.
These are not my words, I am a vessel. The fingertips of a hand.
That may reach your heart...and heed an applause in my quiet thoughts.