A Shattered Case of Misconceptions.

I'm sorry if I ever misjudged you.
Even more so, I'm sorry if I ever put up a wall to lead you down those judgements.

The thing is, I am me. The thing is, you are you.
Why the hell did I play the Queen when I should have played the fool.

For me a poetic license hides truth. Or does it reveal inconsistencies of my own or yours?
Drenched in sweat, plagued in fear.
Will you figure me out? Will I figure you out?
Will I figure me out?

Baited breath, I sit in the sun.
The smell of coffee, and raspberries flood my senses.
The resolve of love, loss, gratitude, grief fill my eyes.
How I enjoy the sun.

A shattered case of misconceptions.
A table filled with immaculate mysteries.
I'm so sorry, I misjudged you.
You, forgiven. You misjudged me.

I have a burning questions. Ones so deeply within.
What if what I wanted was the plate-glass misconception?
What if the person I really am isn't the one you really wanted?

We both lay down in the velvet depth of night.
We're both just a shattered box of misconceptions.