Something takes
over us we must
define our truth
of what we love.
Fall down does a
liquid it is an ink
to blot superficial
things I do think.
What we are in a
prose of love rose
from drawn odes,
my mind’s abode.
I will try be soft
to bring a smile
I have want of to
lift what defiles.
Words we’ve left
with a bitter taste
they reflect angst
a love does erase.
In all my might I
delve a mind into
clouds abound to
see I still love you.
I turn to think a
copious amount
of thought I see
new that I found.
A love turned an
imbecile like me
feel as if a savant
of heart’s industry.
©jwinchester
