I will always wear my heart upon my sleeve
Lost between the truth and the make-believe
Perhaps the only difference is what I conceive

I am corrosive
Like the sea, you see
I'll take what's left
If you come near me

I do not see red.
My heart races.
My throat tightens.
I see nothing.
I feel nothing.
I am nothing, but what I am in this moment.
Broken walls, fractured fists.
No, I do not see red.

As I am inspecting the tomatoes for bruises and scrapes, you walk by.
Your stance is as ***** as the collar of your dark blue dress shirt.
Your pace tells me that you have no time to waste on inspecting for bruises, or scrapes.
Perhaps your wife is expecting you home, or perhaps someone else?

As the essence of "Tabacco Oud" dissipates, I bite my bottom lip hard. I imagine yours taste of gin or brandy. A level of richness and depth I could only fathom to taste.

Petrichor and metal
The grey sidewalk elucidates a small copper object
How lucky am I to have come across you…
“Drop that, it is nothing!” He clips.

Our private little rendezvous
Love me until I am black and blue
You can show me what you went through
Then I will hold you like you need me to

Music has the ability to strip us raw.
Regardless of color or creed we are connected through the crescendos that expose our shared vulnerabilities.