San Francisco, CA.
It seems to me,
That we shall always be,
Something less than what we wish to see.
Positions in rhyme,
Limits in time,
Leaving us with no space in which to unwind.
Upon discreetly written pages,
Building nothing but impassable cages.
With unfeeling caresses,
Breaking my heart as it continually flexes.
All of these thoughts with only one notion
So my love and affections you could under-