His heart beats with cluttered thoughts.
With himself his greatest enemy, he has fought.
Collateral damage, those that he love.
Fatigued body and a well-worn glove.
Mole hills that look like mountains, get in his way.
He forgets that in that kiss, longer he should have stayed.
A cut rose with out water left to wilt.
Smokescreen talk with a burning guilt.
The longer left, time the destructor.
Each second passed an axe wielding conductor.
It chops the wood that adds to the fire.
Truth talking, the only water for the one he desires.
© Deon Heemskerk 22-6-2012