Distance made unruly by thunder,

Distance made unruly by thunder,

questions of fortitude raised at night,

while a man cannot be guilty of his blunder

in that his heart longs for what his body does not.

A brain disconnected by fragility,

sent away on soldier’s leave

where hospitable nurses form their prospects,

making sure your love is just less for you to believe.

You don’t listen to her voice.

She’s the conscience throbbing relentless.

You push her away, it’s only your choice.

Not hers, not hers, not theirs, but yours.

Wintry nights meet cloudy vision.

Bespectacled in nature sings wisdom’s clarity.

If she’s wise, clouded is her disposition,

always aloof, hidden in musty rainbows.

Rainbows are lovely, the mystery is dead.

You find solace in her intrigue black.

One of these days, no longer is your bed

to contain the delicate warmth of her virginity.

One of these days, she’ll figure it out.

When she’s unraveled from the cloak of your affection.

For now, her mind is not blurry with doubt

as she finds you her love, a lie, her beauty.

She’ll find out, you tell yourself, touch a knife.

The rain is guilty on your head, it’s rained too much.

She cannot find and she does not deserve strife

in such a delicate, thoughtful heart.