The black pools at the back of your mind

I could stare there for a million years,

I'd never really comprehend the neurons there.

You could love, laugh, snicker, giggle and fade, but at the back your face I see these pools of black.
You smile and cry, you laugh and suffer. Regardless of where you find yourself I find myself in the deep end your black pools.

I struggle how to understand how you even comprehend me let alone yourself. Yet we always find ourselves still swimming in the same end.

You swim in the same end, we’ll play pretty and play house, we’ll play nice and play mad. We’ll play cute and sad.

All the colours of the world paint our canvas, but our brush stops short at the back of your mind. There is no colour to describe where we met half-way or where we met our maker. These words are stupid and pretty and maybe don’t compute.

Maybe we could smoke some cigarettes and listen to the Smiths in your car or just stare at each other for awhile.

We'll never get each other completely but for god sakes you drive me crazy. I'll over analyze everything to death, but I want you to analyze me to death, let’s make out and sleep in tomorrow.  

Just tomorrow promise me I can look into the black pools and hope to see something that makes sense to us both.


We’ll get up late and pay too much for breakfast, but it will be great.