You Slay Me

at what point does it become moot, again. and fade into the backdrop of timeless pastels mixed beyond recognition, too civilized to disturb meanwhile, the fury rages beneath where no one can see the canon of tosses no one would bear against the ageless scrutiny of perfection, dancing around semantics laughing into the night air yet, no one would pull on the window while whistling for stars I'd rather you blurt out the truth scream if you have to, just do what you need to make me believe you meant what you thought you said, that you're more than a polite excuse chopping days off somebody's endless dream ...