Black Hearts And Thought Angels

I'm trying to decide what it is that I need.
Maybe I'll find an angel.
Is it all so white, and black,
What does it have to do with the heart?
I can't remember what I thought.
Maybe I'll just go to bed.

I feel so small in bed.
It's far bigger than I seem to need.
Wonder what it'd be like to share it with an angel.
The sheets, mirroring the night, are black.
But is it the night or the heart?
That's just a crazy thought.

This isn't at all what I thought.
Even when I dream in bed
I can't discern what I need.
I've never seen an angel,
Just souls that are black.
Doesn't that kind of bother your heart?

I guess I should open the gates to my heart
And welcome all thought.
Put my worries to bed
And demand what I need.
I know I'm not an angel,
But my life isn't that black.

The absence of color is black,
But what represents lacking in the heart?
Has anyone ever really given it thought?
I suppose you forget about it in bed,
Never giving a color to need.
I bet you sleep like a peaceful angel.

I think I see, in your eyes, my angel.
In you everything is easier, even utter black.
I suppose I could trust you with my heart,
I'd even grant you thought.
It'd make for a less lonely bed…
Maybe we could fulfill our need?

What do you need, angel?
Can you heal my black heart?
Let's sleep in a bed of thought.
-srw

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