Schrödinger (Poet's Eyes)

Sometimes I find myself just staring at your hands And I start to think about all the lands That they would've cultivated hard before the era of smoke and char and How the earth'd be etched across your palm And I just stare down the lines in your face How they would be filled or yet erased Had you been born to high society with only gold, no memory of A life of joy before this careful calm But I'm glad your hands are soft And I'm glad your face is lined I hope this don't come off the slightest bit unkind You'll never hear me say it out loud Because silence was something that I vowed To myself, but not no holy sky Now something about your poet's eyes makes me feel like my feet lift off the ground I can't help but just love on your smile How it would throw a kind word for a mile And how I would be content just seeing it once underneath a streetlight lit and Know that you'd been happy for a while And it's such an easy distraction to think about the curve in your nose How it would feel beneath my fingertips while you recite to me the myths of Some past year's Laurel canyon rose But I'm glad you smile so bright And I'm glad your nose is curved I know all this might, might be undeserved You still won't hear me say it out loud And you know I'll always keep my old vow But now I'm praying up to holy skies Because something about your poet's eyes is So sweet it makes my heart start to pound I know I'll wake up soon And I'll pull back the curtain Where your portrait stands decayed Only then will I be certain Fine You'll only hear me say this out now But your breath is my favorite sound I want to know what color you see the sky I want to wipe tears from your poet's eyes God, Hope I never say this to a crowd.