The Color of Green Frogs
"I'm sorry, I can't explain my behavior.
I can't commit," he said, "Not even to the color of green frogs."
Does he even know what I am seeking... any concern for my thoughts...
In regard to my desire for predictable affection, a sensual nature?
He advances cautiously... (so much uneasiness).
"I can't commit," he said, "Not even to the color of green frogs."
Tormented beliefs with uneasy expression...
Where do you go in your thoughts?
Compassion without creditability... (so much contradiction).
"I can't commit," he said, "Not even to the color of green frogs."
So full of expression with no channels, no direction...
The result could be powerful... (so much available, yet unused).
You find peace in accepting.
"I can't commit," he said, "Not even to the color of green frogs."
A thinker with depths of empathy, I can't begin to grasp.
You wear it like a badge, like a burden.
At times it's hard to tell the difference... (so much longing).
"I can't commit," he said, "Not even to the color of green frogs."
Tender and impartial, all the while being humble and removed...
What are your passions?
What motivates you to affection?... (so much avoidance).
"I can't commit," he said, "Not even to the color of green frogs."
I ask myself, will he stay long enough to appreciate my color of green?
Would he have the capacity to nurture that vision?... (so much doubt).
"Any regrets," I ask?
"I can't commit," he said, "Not even to the color of green frogs."
