I wish I could be you.
I could see in your eyes and witness me and all the feelings that flee.
Stop to think of me, so I can love.
If you were my eyes, you'd marvel in that surprise.
Can I love myself too much or want love at the touch?
I wish to be you, can't I love you?
Pause to reflect on this.
You read about me, and how you feel me.
Is self-love is a sin, or remembered as vanity, one of the many recollections of our minds?
Together I pull us, so I can be you.
Say LOVE IS A SIN?
Or just one of our mirrored feelings?
Breathe me in, like a roll of sweet smelling smoke.
Get higher off of me than a bird could see me, pointing from below.
The bird looks at me; the image reflecting in the glasses I have for eyes.
I WISH I COULD BE YOU. . .