I cannot mold you a sculpture Nor fix the damaged segments Of who you are; I cannot caress you, with relish, Nor grasp the churning oceans Within your mind; I cannot sing you lullabies Nor read the tales and poems That you keep gleaning From the glistering stars above-- And from the sultry, tropical twilight. Yes, I cannot decipher The palpable lines of anxiety That seem to pepper your skin, Nor ask the fading daylight To juxtapose the blatant secrets That we endeavor to leave behind; I cannot enunciate your name Nor spell out the myriad riddles That lay in betwixt our smiles; I cannot scream at nor challenge The annoying phenomenon That insistently renders me static And callously numb. Indeed, I cannot be yours, love-- And you cannot be mine. "Cannot" I cannot mold you a sculpture Nor fix the damaged segments Of who you are; I cannot caress you, with relish, Nor grasp the churning oceans Within your mind;
