Sketch

Everything said is a sketch of intention
Sounds fill syllables, form words
Which outline visions you see and hope to share

You hammer shack shapes on the page and say
"House"
You key numbers on the screen and say
"Job"
Cut autumns in the still and say
"Soon"

Lines are beautiful and I
Admire the way you wrap wires
Around the edge of this "to be,"
But honestly, "trust me"
Doesn't fit around seeking,
Straying on screen or into a party
"Marry me, someday" doesn't mesh well
With spending skin money,
Bending three years over your falsehood

"I love you"
Denies the monochrome
Flat, bold lies drip and stretch
Struck out by red