Beats based on desert crickets.

Breath timed with my heart's quickest rhyme.

One and two and three and four.

Hold my hand before I walk out the door.

Count my six in the darkest and thickest.

I wouldn't respond with a feeling so strong, if there weren’t a passion that has held this long.

The time that I take to make sure that your earth doesn't quake should magnify the importance that I place on our fate.

Every expression is simply a lesson.

Every reaction an opportunity for clear, concise, calculated action.

Every new quirk, another reason to make this work.

I am helpless, to trying not to be selfless. 

I am a slave to the energy I crave.

You are attempting to be my master, not my disaster.

You are my savior, yet also a witness, of my irreparable behavior.

Each poorly placed word becomes a sorely placed wound.

Which is only a result of too much, too soon.

It may not matter the tune.

The message is simple...

I am the wrinkle between

what is overdue and what has come too soon. 

Copyright, Kaycee Phillips 2017