My fantasies are sketchy
like the black-and-white outlines
in a colouring book
Were they be too vivid,
they might jump out
of the pages,
the beasts of reality
I caught a sight of you.
The door slightly ajar, I passed by
a glimpse of you
Pangs and twangs
tugging of heartstrings
vibrations too low to be picked up
by human ears
The frequency of emotions
guttural, deep, and low
that which sends blood coursing,
flooding the vessels,
And the vessels are like cracks
on a broken vessel.
