Innermost part of my veins
Like an oppressive regime
And Ceausescu's palace a mere analogy for my mind
Empty halls and redundancy…
No clear skies tonight.
Darling, there are no clear skies tonight
How am I meant to imitate the up-above
If I cannot see my reflection in it?
I resort to puddles, for there are no lakes and
I am not Narcissus
But I do know I will hear you Echo
Your voice resonant, pervasive, all at once;
I've got you stuck on a loop
And I am too afraid to press eject
Cassettes are fragile, and this CD
Is the only thing of you
That I have left
So forgive me, but I cannot let you rest
Keep singing for me
Until the puddle evaporates,
And takes my reflection away with it
love has no boundaries, no county lines
but I am neurotic,
a perfectionist
so I am compelled
to draw borders in, with blue ink.
"What was my mad heart dreaming of?" -Sappho