Song of Deborah

Why is everything so easy with you?

How did you iron all these creases so soon?

Why do I not bother my heart might err again?

Or swim in the clouds of illusions that I create.

What if you don’t even know what you are doing?

What if I am giving birth to feelings and you are comfortably unaware?

What if you blind me with Cloud No 9

And then poke a pin and make it rain?

But for now, I am just happy to have you staring at me,

while we make it together another day..

Happy that someone was born with the crazy blue eyes on 28^th,

with possession of a heart that says

“I like you” in reply of “I like you”, not “I like you too”,                

Happy to see you try that I would believe you, even though you know I wont.

And it’s so easy to hope you are wrong, when you tell me you cant be with someone,

As I sit talking to the blushing-face, with the blues of Greece, I found..

As easy as beauty comes to you, when Sun shines on your ocean eyes amidst the desert beige.

And how about you tell me you are not ready, without drawing me in with your playful bantering mouth?

How about you tell me its nothing. while your fingers, on my skin, sing a different, unheard song of Deborah?

how can I act nonchalant, When even your teddy bear awkwardly sees it 

from your wardrobe rack,

as I run paper-cuts through your back

So happy, I cant trust this and then you say you take my incredulity as a compliment anyway..