You met me with a passion often in a fury, I was new to this. Still am yet here it is, all the things I don’t do well. What then can I give? How the fuck did I ever allow such a space between, the space for so many other things. You go away and then I am to master something?

I am here, and I feel like you fucking know it. That isn’t the point though is it. You tell me if I can make you happy, love you, and if I’m the author of the space, love be the word that follows.

Upon my head so many thoughts and trades. Within my hand signets known to man pass but they all lack the best warmth and meaning found in your palm.

I’ll scrap the abyss and mark the maze ever in hope of you.

I don’t want forgiveness, I need understanding….the same I give with love.

Dance in the moon, love in the sun