Blarg.

look at the expressions on my face
they dance before you, like little windows
not to my soul,
windows to yours.

We are mirrors of the sky
and reflectors of the ancients
we yearn and pine and I perish
glistening in the rising moon.

The first thing I knew
when I came to your world
was the feeling of the grass I reside in
There is no opulence but in our eyes

Oh to love and to do it freely
We are growing ever weary in our minds

to find certainty in a world where my
senses are so heightened that I know
when the hair on your arms in perched and ready
for the kill

So sensitive that your words are my words
because I feel you so deep in my heart that
I know not who I am

I am wasted beneath your ice-soaked gaze
and withered in my own space.