title 2

introverted boy wonder
makes me sit and think too much
makes me sit and drink too much
i make up stories inside my head
he reaches for the bottle
instead of the pen

he's an artist
just like me
you see,
and we've both got demons
that sit in the room
with us
every night
as soon as the boredom
starts to set in.

boy wonder
doesn't speak much
but translates everything to me
telepathically
and sometimes
i misunderstand
if i try to read it through his eyes.

i am convinced
there is a symphony inside his heart and
behind those blue eyes of pain
there is heat and wonder
for everything good
and everything bad we want to burn away

he's an introvert
and i talk too loud
when i enter rooms
extend my hand to strangers
the same hand thats ready to fight
because i am confrontational.

he's like a calm sea
while i am a hurricane

we sit in the room
with our demons
and i make up stories in my head
he reaches for the bottle
instead of the pen

we know we'll both give in
but its just a matter of when.