Time-drops, they fell. Away, and there,
besides myself, I had to ask,
Being thus given a view, not advantaged or privileged,
But in seeing as valid as any other set of eyes,
This existence, to look this exterior, and then inside what i'm beside,
Transfixed, this a person, some being, an individual,
Coded for God, gene of expression, but seeking in vain,
Before damning, this sinnful hesitation, of holding back the pain,
That otherwise would of floodgates disposed and made petty,
but which present leaves strong and intact.
Like what no amount of tact can construe,
that there is a seperate me and you,
That the hurt, the coinage marker of love, be not expended,
Are you such a dragon?
Hoarding care for fear that somebody would steal your concern.
For it to sit there, when it could be spent differently,
in different figures, on this one, an i, standing next and neighbor,
A currency more precious than jewels or golden flowers
Wrapped in fine silk for the beauty long haired across the street,
When lovingness is spent and shared.

Face, what has many facets,
Sit and not run from,
Cry with the joy, and of such beauteous past for lack of currents,
A knowing not felt in the crisis rising in swelling chest, that such will pass,
First or last cry, this is not. But a final next to this i,
Tear down with me. Or, least, pocket my softs,
And don't let the world see me seeing it in me!
That would be like looking at a material thing in a mirror for its prettiness.