And They All Fall Down...

Dance with me through open doors,
My hand's out-stretched, awaiting your's.
Every size and every shape,
Of every cage that we'd escape.

Forwarded doubt to backward thought,
I must be a potter or thrall to feel this used.
Will you take away the awful silence of being so unique?
When I have never before been seen in such a solid state.

Through congenial warmth, having felt,
The sweet burn of a foreign melt.
I'll take another look around,
At all the serfs that I have crowned.

The greatest treasure is found in the deepest oceans.
No rapture could have narrowed it down this perfectly.
My wrist is sore from twisting fate,
And you are just the coincidence I have been looking for.

Fallen stars, your words have been,
Safely tucked away in pen.
Every form of "I agree",
Has taken hold of you and me.

Mirrors can't touch you in regards to performance,
When you make my reflection so alluring.
Could you really understand the frustration?
They all still whisper their white noise to deaf ears.

The foremost rule of losing touch:
Know what to ditch, and what to clutch.

*Copyright (c) 2008, B. Lucas