mutual

Searching cavernous souls
Racking what I might believe
Splitting hairs of fragrant
Ideas wandering down my sleeve
But I’m not more righteous
Than the boys down on the beat
I’m flawed, sensitive – prone to anger
Stuck in a commuting rut; weakly on repeat
There’s quiet secret I might contain
Love & passion bubbling just beneath my skin
I think in poetry, but you desire a hero
Can’t compete with expectations; our mutual chagrin