My sleepless mind can’t break the bond that lights my night like stars, for I have grown so very fond of everything you are.

Seemingly ever out of reach, but holds the hearts of many, her deepest thoughts are hers to keep and call upon when ready.

Free-spirited, but fleeting, and singing as she goes, my heart is ever-beating for the darling wandering rose.

How precious those diagonals, that criss and cross along the cloth and plates that island every crease between our foreign glances.

Conversing far beyond our tongues and rules that govern parted shores, there speaks a language, known to those who’ve mastered the unspoken.

Hidden in each hearty laugh and smiles that kindle inner-thought, a vibrant flow, that glows and grows, lights up the room and all its hearts.

How precious these diagonals to hold and harbour all our words, and how subtle we both find ourselves in voicing the unheard.

Fickle as they come and go, without a parting word, fly-tipping memories into a pit of disregard that rots in the sun, and burns in the cold like the icy, sharp and beatless heart inhabiting my chest as a squatter, stealing my blood (like the thief it is) and filling my veins with wonder; of a kind that’s built to ever-desire, and priding itself in trickery.

But lest we forget the victims, lying and lying to their new-found lovers…

and modesty deserts me.

Not wise, but privy to workings ever-deeper; evermore, everless, and always deceiving. Take care to examine the love you’re receiving.

United against our every undoing, succeeding to quell our extinction, yet fight amongst our common hands and hearts of little distinction.

With a finger of shame, we point and blame at showcased felons, and scorn. Catching eyes in the mirror, it couldn’t be clearer where the lies and deception were born.

And had we the time to record every crime or in-bred diseases of thinking, then sleep lay resigned, and seldom we’d find but a moment that warrants our blinking.

Fashion me, tailors, a social religion to taper me tight at the hips. But grant me illusion to make the decision of how best to lie with my lips.