Don’t say a word, to me. I am decrepit, feeble.
You are too much for someone so outdated.
A resolve too low for your details.
You break me from the concentration; escaping from my head.
I am rainy day Sundays and you are the comfort of love and fire.
The fleeting glance into my heart cannot compare to
the pulsating beauty that beats in your eyes.

These grounds do not meet in a middle range.
There is a gap between us that no one can fill.
Mediocrity, compromising, and your words settle
upon merely a fraction of an internal world.
The spectrum encompasses colors too subtle for the human eye to see;
and error is in our nature.

I am automated breath, taking each step for granted.
Our proportions distort my perspective into focus.
You renew the faith in my expanding lungs.
You slow my heart and raise my blood pressure.
I tense when you are not around and my pupils dilate
to a distant haze when you are by my side.