In All You Do

How are you, my darling?
How do you do in all you do
and how do you say all the things you say?
Words are so sweet when they drip like the bean in your cup and taste as the rain.

Fallen and mesmerized by your beauty,
I can but feign such afflictions.
How do you think the way you think
and how do you reason the logic of your thought?
Beliefs are often hard to grasp,
in the turning hands of the clock.

How do you say sorry by saying nothing at all,
at one glance and outburst of anger in your tears?
Pride was a steep price to pay when you play that game.
How do you forgive when the mean was but unforgiveable.

How do you appear the way you appear?
Flawed, yet perfection outlines your fears.
You are never dismayed, yet you seem scared.
How do you do the things you do?

How do you love the way you love,
for past, present, and future gave you no chance?
You were meant for more than this town,
as you excelled far beyond accomplishments.
At every day,
you make yourself a name.

Disappointed in all the things you do.
The suicide fell as social experiments made their way into your life,
having all but lost against a canvas,
falling apart by the emotions that were never felt.

Nausea grips, and it consumes.
Looking away, you naught but say:
How do you so those things you do?