I don't wonder what you are thinking. You never speak. So I don't wonder anymore. I'm not the chosen one to open your soul to listen to it pour over me in fluid motion like the blood through my heart. I don't care to ask another time, "What's on your mind?". You don't wonder me, so I can't wonder you. The one you choose to open yourself to will grow intoxicated with your mind, of that I'm sure. I know it's beautiful, I know it speaks of life. The colors of your mind stay trapped inside. I wanted so much to see them, but I want no more, because I know I'm not chosen. Because I know the colors of my mind are as vibrant and brilliant as yours,
gotta get back to perfect. Perfect desires. My mind's perfect waits for me there. I guess I do will it to come. It is submissive to me. One day I will figure away to bring my mind's eye out and show it. Someday. When the time is right. It will come unexpectedly.