Sundays

And like mine, your eyes tell a different story
Your words scream out different meaning
Than that of which you’re weaving
Only, it’s not me who you’re deceiving

And, like me, you’re a complex web of feeling
You’re a tangled web of love gone sour
Full of layers, from contact you cower
You long for it, but the damage devours

“You don’t understand me”
Oh, but dear, I do
Let me reach through that smile and take it from you
To this heart, misery is nothing new