PARTITIONS

Bounded by the glass case

I am inanimate object filled with desires

And I convey them to her, to eyes that resemble fire

She tells me when the morning comings

And I wish to sing to her lullabies

On this guitar strained with nothingness

The world's we live in are so different

Hers is everything she hopes to see

For me it's her stories

She talks to me thinking I don't have a voice to utter

How would she know the words that I have to describe the serenity she brings me

I maybe mute forever, an object of her entertainment

I am limited bodily but this mundane bosom is more doting than ever