Like the sky, drowning in the blue—
waves have come and gone
changing the very face of the shore,
but none of that is ever true—
Who is part of whom?
Yet what does it matter?
blue has never been our color
but together creating a majestic scene
for some, that might have seemed obscene—
to shed a credible doubt
onto the changing nature of sentiments
then consider our love a crime
and me being accused
of victimizing you;
I am condemned—
guilty of being in love with you.

No laughs, no cries can tell—
no smiles can send you to paradise
nor tears can cast you down to hell;
I have not offered much—
for what I do not have I do not sell—
I have offered you myself.
Whether a hill stands in the way
or a mountain, I know,
today, I know
with all broken bones
and faces scorched with scorn,
I’ll still carry you;
but don’t ask about tomorrow—
for what I do not have I do not sell—
do not dwell on love forever,
I don’t know in whose arms I die
or whose children I carry
or for which heartbreak I cry,
but I will remember—
what’s real and true never loses hue;
your sweat beaded like blood
encroached chains in my heart,
yet I’ve never been so free—
the fragrance of your skin
will endure; forgive my sin,
I have breathed you all in;
forgive that you are a part of me—
I do not know to love any other way.
I am guilty to the bones; it’s true—
guilty of being in love with you.


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