Beats based on desert crickets.
Breath timed with my heart's quickest rhyme.
One and two and three and four.
Hold my hand before I walk out the door.
Count my six in the darkest and thickest.
I wouldn't respond with a feeling so strong, if there weren’t a passion that has held this long.
The time that I take to make sure that your earth doesn't quake should magnify the importance that I place on our fate.
Every expression is simply a lesson.
Every reaction an opportunity for clear, concise, calculated action.
Every new quirk, another reason to make this work.
I am helpless, to trying not to be selfless.
I am a slave to the energy I crave.
You are attempting to be my master, not my disaster.
You are my savior, yet also a witness, of my irreparable behavior.
Each poorly placed word becomes a sorely placed wound.
Which is only a result of too much, too soon.
It may not matter the tune.
The message is simple...
I am the wrinkle between
what is overdue and what has come too soon.
Copyright, Kaycee Phillips 2017