Does he feel the weight press against him?
The weight of cold pressing truth.
Does it force the guilt from his pores like oil?
No..she sees it is light as a bubble....
Truth lifting its way out of him
With a merry grin and promises of eternal friendship.
Oh..the divine freedoms of nothing more!
Alas, loves confusion is her bed of nails,
And, it seems she is tucked down tight.
Her too high pillow is stuffed full of whispered wishes,
And wet with a river of tears.
Oh what delicious torment
To be started through happenstance!
What does it matter if purity of intention,
Holds her from freedom of heart
If both leave her lonely?