[oats]

perhaps it was too cold for her to mingle through the nudges
hands on her shoulder when I told her the most singular of cusses

"Don't take this the wrong way, but..."

my voice fell, silence lingering above it

"...I love you."

the last 3 words resounded softly, ringing like a suffix
psychosomatic flashes had her brimming in the numbness
words simple as a blush could lift her like the strings above a puppet
she was peaking as she squeezed me, feelings inches from the summit
while every tear of hers felt like syringes to my stomach...

addiction was the trust in which I founded the forgery
her curves - how they tortured me! moans the sound of her sorcery
every idiosyncrasy her lips would bow to explore of me
led to laden lies I'd pray at night, endowed in her porous sheen

"promise you'll never leave..."

I promised - and it was honest - like every yearning she said to me
cuz truth only reciprocates upon the burden to set it free
but it's a thin line, so I obliged to spurn the discrepancy
that if my life was a stage...I always thought of her as the mezzanine...

...but that's as sure as I'll ever be, see I've stumbled through what trust is
that hurdle is menacing when you've sunk into your crutches
a past of punches, bruises, cuts - if you're not able to follow
then here's a table to model the old "tomato" "to-motto"
cuz who's to say there's a difference between "comfortable" and "loveless?"

feeling young and used erupted in emotional learning speed
cuz everyone's entitled to their own insecurities
I'm not talkin bout the ones that we disclose as a courtesy
I mean the threat of rejection pressed into your throat till it burns to breathe

as a token of urgency I tried to let emotions run free -
an awkward smile as I grabbed her hand and stuttered to one knee.
under the mistletoe of power lines buzzing above me
I abandoned my search for love...and settled for the one who could love me

we let our tongues interrupt; kisses to answer the static
her closed eyes against my blank stare - the romance of detachment
frantic, erratic, Cupid misfired with the aiming of a musket
and all that was left was "love..." dangling like a suffix