Petty Pretty Petty

Your ribcage fits my fingers,
Gentle as if not there at all,
Angles of your body and mind,
Tempers stretched so tall.

You'll promise me so far away that
Distance is just a barrier we knit,
Desperation is the yarn, humming,
Then singing, "is it? it is. is it?"

Say it again, for old times sake,
"Grey is a solution for the indecisive mind,
Cause black and white should never meet".
Umbrella fingertips, you're the grey kind.

I'll play all the instruments,
Pretend they are your bones,
Drumming to the beat of jealousy
And of how you feel so alone.