summer in your hands
most disorderly and in your eyes
in your heart where blood flows
dutifully but not for me
that’s what hurts isn’t it
and sometimes when I see you
polished and posed I want
to lean in closer but closer isn’t
a feeling we’re meant to share
that’s what hurts isn’t it
and usually I end in trembling
so this is usually with me
no better for anything and you
still not wanting me how I want you or at all
and that’s what hurts isn’t it
-r. miller
*Insert Propaganda Here* 
beautiful, touching