what does this say

life has become musac, grey and numb

prosaic, subterranean and then some

bette davis’ eyes no longer sparkle

the blue sky is no longer remarkable

but then I turn in the darkness to you

and in your sleep you pull us through

in times like these

tis the rationalisation disease

the mornings oft seem as though

to glance over, you know

then re-enter the slumber, twas sweet

is the better deal, admit defeat

then your eyes, they open, and I wonder

of the dawn light, could I become fonder

what does this say of my fate, carved stone

or flowing with the melded dreams, yet still alone

©HeyHey 2013