I love calm surfaces,
Reflecting the displayed facade,
Like a play, over life's stage,
And underneath it all,
Is a tumultous tornado, spinning,
Like your blowing hot and cold.
Tossing me into a cesspool,
Where the base is a dark abyss,
Even reflections would not show,
And the Moon overhead looks on,
This parody too funny to be tragic;
Then you tug at my heartstrings.
The power overwhelms at time,
Jolting from head to toes, tingling;
Overflowing, and other days it dies,
On me - silent, cold and unfamiliar,
We become intertwined strangers,
Trying to break through this spell.
Copyright © 2016 thearcticstar
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