Pretty and White

and three thousand miles from my confusion,
i can't seem to shake it off.
every heavy thought with which i try to weigh it down,
seems only to hold it aloft,
the face that is not simple beauty alone,
that spurrs my heart to bitter and break,
until i can find only a few things to hold close,
thousands of miles and knowledge of the stakes.

if i was there id try to spread myself beneath you,
if only the miles weren't so many and the reasons so few.
but i'd turn my eyes, renew my hearts beat,
slip it painfully from your high-heeled feet.
waken to a land so pretty and white,
open the front door so that i might,
share with the night every distant care,
and spread my worries to the whistling air.

and there'd be a new "you", your eyes bringing the start,
of a new beat with which to set my heart,
and i lament and rejoice that i am thus,
scared of not loving before my bones have not dust,
yet by pride so ruled that not let me see,
myself, on my knees presented before thee.

so id lastly pray that things would just stop,
that everything i'd learnt could be cruelly forgot,
and that harsh words and fantasies young,
could be undone by worthier tongues,
then i'd see perhaps you and me,
and i could set myself, kneewards towards thee.

For Vicky...the new chapter.
may it not be as short as the last.