Nameless

Following the distractions of the day,

I get back to the real problem of my heart.

If at one point, like a closet crazy person,

I didn't extend my hand toward that other,

let's say potential pretty pensive strawberry fragrance

In a blue and red gown, so as to confuse the minors, that is,

then it could be assumed that I did not,

in good taste!

express my affections.

However, therein lies the un-truth of the eye,

rhyme unintended, because within that look

and of course in the manner of speech, when

the eye follows the softness of the hand,

the curve of the jeans, the up and downs of her

eyes which she's intensified from one second to the

next

in darkness I might add!

is a frequent tenderness that reveals the importance

of calling promptly.

Video games are to blame for the lack

of self-importance or importance of myself

when considering how to proceed toward

that cell phone with honorable intentions

yet not wanting to

in a pathetic scene of hysteria!

look like I was too imposing on her persona

because often times the most noble intentions

can seem the most annoying, that is to say,

unless there's reason to blame curiosity, then its okay,

but then not!

if truly the call comes from the heart

or out of actual kind intent

with this intense and not so general and white

feeling inside of wanting to ask you out

so bad!

Conclusively, it's the smile, or the

love clinging to each word in her voice

that I wish to be a victim of

but then comes to mind

this necessity for responsibility

which annoys!

like any other thing that never leaves,

a car crash, a job, a lawyer, a stain,

and she becomes a competition for the mind

not close enough to touch, as in the skin,

or as in the air,

always there, not close enough to touch,

never there, always everywhere

in the heart!

But always apart. The nemesis is time

which encompasses all that could be,

a date, a kiss, a relationship, a wedding, kids,

in a daze!

until that love is nowhere to be seen

in that fantastic screen

which monopolizes my feelings

for her and relieves her of my heart's possession

until she becomes like a gentle breeze

which ceases to whisper in the cold,

and never leaves

she plays me better!

than those games I play,

I never win,

and she cheats!

Thus ended, I leave, partly in disappointment

when I make that call, finally,

and lose to the dull answering machine's empty tone,

which requests a message but that message

is inherent of

I don't want to talk to you!

because she never returns my calls.

Therefore, a sad poet in despair falls.

I truly wonder what his name is!