When tomorrow's dawn brushes dreams into memory
I'll still be bathing in the luminescence you leave in
I don't think you understand the beauty you house, when
the outline of your frame gives birth to a pensive
smile and you open yourself to contingency.
How, even after all this time, I still harbor the feeling
of electricity when the circadian consistency
of your voice peels away my ego like paint.
How even after the war when my faith in myself
had been repackaged as a hand me down toy,
My faith in you still remained.
The only prayer of an atheist, always steadfast,
that you see it too, even in the handcrafted
blindness you wield as an eggshell shield.
you have to see it...