What could I do to make you feelas if you’re missing out with eachabsence of-of my existence inyour own life?Sigh.Would it take the danger of my life or death itself torealize that just maybe, justmaybe your indifference wouldbe the greatest mistakeof all?Why stall?Suppose I purposely rejectyour presence in my lifeso that I dance to thedrums that celebrateyour nonentity; willyou then acknowledgethat something is notright and open youreyes to the possibilitythat your happinessmay accompanymy love?Not enough?Is it true thatwith all my prayers you and I will neverbecome lovers morethan friends?Does our story end?Tears have become my shower and wordshave become mypower so that inthis dark hour Icome clean andsane and I cansee that somewherethere will be aman who will takeone shock of me andproclaim that to him nofire or thunder oreven light itself canmake him fall andtremble as the way mybeing ceases hisheart.
My soul is an art.