Sleep refuses to bestow her grace upon me. <br />I close my eyes, <br />And I see your big brown eyes <br />And feel your perfect face pressed up mine: <br />To a closeness, <br />so close <br />Infinitely close: <br />Representative of the way we are, <br />Our two souls do clap together, <br />Reinforcing each other, my backbone becomes your prop <br />and yours, <br />Mine. <br />But, even with our infinitely small lines, <br />The point is, <br />There are lines; <br />And behind those lines lies secrets and clandestine flaws. <br />Things that stirs within me <br />Turning rainbow-like love and adoration into hell-like darkness. <br />The thought of you being perfect and by your own will refusing to be, <br />Is the thorn in my heart. <br />I do think realistically: and no one is perfect, <br />But my heart rewards effort; <br />Just the attempt to be. <br />Unless you try <br />Then these are my final words, and farewells <br />So, <br />Bye <br /> <br /> <br />(2008)<br /><br />Leslie Alexis<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/hullabaloo-2/
