More than notes, afraid to leave the silent piano,
of my soprano tongue.
Halves, quarters, and whole.
You are the depths of the lengths
of the mountains I have been waiting
to climb.
In time, you have melted my glaciers
into a ravenous river,
that flows.
I know the secret to the unanswerable
practically unpractical.
In all actuality, it was me
waiting for your construction zone.
Could it be,
demolishment as a sentiment?
You cradled my broken beating box
slowly, and sweet.
Retreat does not suite me now.
Locked in your arms is where I want to wait,
for the last of lights to flicker out.
From the rise to the set,
let me walk nearby.
Sing the words,
let them go awry.
Intoxication within your
demonstration.
Years of the same
sort of pain and ponder,
and I wandered straight to you.
Magnetically charged,
bright boisterous bombs.
Right now is the finally,
a feeling of revelry.
Holding tightly to my new specialty.
I never knew I needed the rest,
but your suave soothing severity,
has kept me,
in bed.
newmountainstoclimb 