I’m wondering if that balance even exists
between raw, voracious passion
and living life in straight lines.
I walk them, those lines
day in and day out
from morning until the night.
When the sun begins to fade into the sea
and the clouds begin their dance
with that loving moon.
My time has come to step onto this page
to rip the cover back and bleed
my colors until they run dry.
It is here that I can dream of you and I
with naked skin and souls
lying face to face unfettered.
It is here where I can sing and you can dance
to a song that now lives hidden
within the depths of our hearts.
Here we could see the magic
we could be the motion and the act
of this thing that I know we believe.
In that place the heart would simply beat
the pulse would resonate
and a slow burning would commence.
That drive, that steady hum
would rock us to sleep
in each other’s arms.
But the lines are drawn
and we each stand firmly
on opposite sides.
The lights are bright
and the confusion has become
more than decidedly clear.
That broken lines do not exist
and dreamers will not dream
in the deafening lingering silence.
Questions will go unanswered
and voices will become mute
as passion resumes its steady straight lines.
Oh, those lines...it's magic when they converge, fun when they intersect and annoying as hell when they parallel and never quite meet.
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