so as i sit silently
slowly smoking soul-sucking
cigarettes, silhouettes and shadows
show songs for slow-dances on the walls;
where the rushing rumble of nearby
bypasses nearly passes me by, but i
catch the cautious and the careless alike;
though likely i imagine it,
for this doesn't seem right;

here and now need not be present;
perhaps the time is too precise to
punctuate with marking;
mere moments meet mindless musings
made known without much talking;
and state of mind most might say
is hardly thought in passing
expiration must meet the days;
even in moments seeming everlasting

and so it seems so ill advised
but i must sing songs still;
for if my mouth moves not to say it
my heart has not the means nor the will

and so my lips part,
and the perilous ponderings
of precious words push forth,
they are the ill-refined ramblings
of heedless hopeful hearts

and if it is that this is true;
the love and light inside the sights
i must say these words in secret
they must be reserved for you;

but all will know it anyway
for it is that i can't contain
and if the words are left unsaid
the feeling still remains;
and if the feeling stays with me still
there's nothing in this world
that can make me keep my will
to keep these things unspoken;
a promise with myself
that must be broken.

03/24/2007

Author's Note: a rambly love poem, i think?

Posted on 03/24/2007
Copyright © 2024 Andrew S Adams