Deep inside, imagination rumbles,
soft at times as it falls
into a pool of absent years
impossible past experiences traveled
down dirt road dreams
as words slip without effort
into beautiful
he was a physical place inside of me
smooth like melted butter, a second skin
when mine became weary
the silver lining inside of my soul,
well rounded
a perfect shade of blue steel
I guess I will always try to be that perfect identity,
his hammock in the shade;
bringing drops of Jupiter to his eyes
while I continue to crash into myself
tripping over sentences with innuendos
playing tug of war with my heart
unsure of who I am
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