Paint as many layers over your heart as you desire.
Who is to say it needs to remain as prior.
Except…
A change in color matters very little
to something you believe so brittle.
Why now?
Everywhere I go, a stream of words.
Everything I do, a river of words.
Everything I feel, a flood of words.
Again I ask,
“Why now?”
On the playground we were wed.
I was waiting for your sister,
but found you instead.
We exchanged vows of self-defeat.
We threw a bouquet no one could eat.
For us, everyday went on repeat.
I still think of that day.
You and I clad in grey,
every raindrop waiting for its day.
And I say:
Was it always destined to float away?
Who has the ambition?
I will, you will, we will…
Who has the reputation?
I will, you will, we will…
Who has the money?
I will, you will, we will…
Who feels like something is missing, some detail forgotten, overlooked?
I will, you will, we will..
Thomas Typewriter 
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