It Is Well With My Soul.

🎶it's the way he fills my senses🎶

In my mind he rests
Defenseless
Not beautiful and strong
Not perfect
But discrete
A secret never to be told.

He sure does fill my senses
Reception of heavy menses
Scratched lenses
The man with the white coat
That which thermometer is a stick
Says it's psychological
I agree

His voice
Not deep but authoritative
Echoes through the house
Reminds of him
Tune hummed
Talks of his laughter
Defenseless yet still a secret

Might have built a paradise
He thought otherwise
Might have embraced
He has never disgraced
Him I had appointed
Away from me he disappointed

Comfort is boring
That he teaches
Acquisition
Of everything
Sickening he terms it
Sweet is a struggle

He's gone
But my eyes are still
Fixed on him
He's walking away
Without a word
Or a nod, just a walk
Feels like I'm losing my defenses
To the volumes of his silence
Either way
It is well with my soul