the page...

the page, 

a pulse, a blot of worry, just that, today...talking a bad, hurried rhythm to bed

worrying with my hands air bound as they turn to the big wanting sky ... a book, catalog my blood-lorn soul..partnered with your look...far and away from me...

so many readers...words too much for staring eyes...volume is voice for the chapter not meant for me

i wont read your words when the one page, crisp and harmful....bluffs me along

sins and pain fill my tongue but remain my song.....

this voice told the world and i fell for it all...leaves believe my words...I thought today rose  and shared a color of sorts

our name...tomorrow i feel your feet....i bow my head i guess....looking down...

somewhere i loved you....now im left along my words....touching but left for dead....im that

to you...a mark...historic blemish.........spirit, flush, a flight...sometimes i worked for you and was real....today...im nothing