In arguments it is usually a way of passing blame,
Well you... it starts, in an uproar of accusations,
A tornado in paradise tearing through with disregard;
Slanted fingers pointed every which way,
Always distancing the self from hurt or the responsibility of others pain;
But it starts with I feel, in a quiet hushed tone,
And the only thing important is that connection longed for by arguing in the first place.
In writing it allows the author to be open but not truly vulnerable,
To be precise but not entirely personal.
Cloaked in mystery, You are my light and my shelter;
Beaconing all to feel immersed in the very heart the words belong to.
However you in its simple written form, strung together with meaning and hidden desire
Is a platform for human connection,
A stage on which others can stand and see exactly what they need to see,
Or feel what they long to feel and 'you' flows freely and interchangeably.
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