Changing Seasons

You can feel that beat in your chest and that sensation of impatience
a cringe in the gut
and warm palm on the back of your neck,
soft lips like peaches
beautiful smell of ember, like a fresh old country oak tree
beauty is vibrant in this youth, but to terms of suggestion, soon comes to reside to things more differently
unexpected
a negative coalition comes,
and the fear of not having enough intelligence, required to take action appears as the warm feeling approaches through your chest, like a fire brewing.
A tinderbox ready to ignite, but yet no match found
the cold furnishing of the winds come as the leaves fall from the trees.
To be romantic as you grow they say,
what is romantic in a age were views only matter to be important by how there described be as with only lies  like mirror to reflect the leaves
then as they grow to die, and go on to a new poster everyday, to have no clue to what guides it, things like the wind
true to what they say turns us all on, the coldness of the inner walls, the warmth  inside a house and the season as they approach an end, the speckles on our shoulders do tingle on
but yet others do notice this so easily the furl of the wind, the warm touch of another being
much better than the cold ends of a bed with a body planked on it.
with me its almost like child's play,and unease to the belief
i'm tired of being disgusting, and not having freedom of expression over my art,
so much you might as well not participate but it doesn't stop you from criticizing something you disagree with. its annoying the fact you find your intelligence greater than mine.
When in fact that where both nobodies, your criticism is not asked for never the less horrible and useless.
sad as the rain
my real intentions was to be passionate
but to have consideration on I've  been fond  of
a much darker side of me,
a compelled being driven by some darkened knowledge with an intelligence of a more experience being other than yours
remembering these moments like our the one we shared, and through the time we been fighting
the flowers do look better after the storm.