all this time i've tried

under thoughts of grey
between noble winters
shrouded thoughts
the push and pull, anticipation
hold my breath

close my door again, since
i've gotten the lock installed

all ruminations are still on boil
since when did my skies turn blue(while my winter coat fades)
since when was it hard to wake
to such eager mornings

paperclips suspend the notion
cultivated porcelain abrasion
mask the kettle, off the flame
spend the cash for enduring
if the winter sun rises again
still on the edge of my seat

glass under arm

i have puddles flowing by the drip-full
whatever i wanted to share,
i wanted to share forever
may i say yea? may i say whatever i want?
if you were to tell me no
would my intuition kick my sense back
would these snow flakes cover my symbolism?
were these fields not so disparaging
were this disparity not so overwhelming
would i be able to hold myself back?