poems from an unfinished mind

What do I call you ?

Irksome, is what you are,

like meaningless conversation in a bar.

You are the quiet in the church

A murder mystery set in verse.

You don't fit, not a bit.

I'm not yours and never will be,

my heart's locked in a heart shaped box

and the gulf's impossible to cross

A fort knox.

You're random and interesting.

I am boredom and convincing.

You're fun and I'm logic

I'm the nun and you're frolic.

Prove me wrong Iike I'm colic

Like I'm stoic, like I'm chronic.

I'm not yours and never will be

My heart's locked in a heart shaped box

And the password's not gonna be yours

I'm a paradox.