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Shea and incense

One day, I'm too much heart. 
The next, too much brain. 
Before long, I'll have no soul. 
Like a 100 meter dash the words are running faster than usain bolt could catch his breath. 
Perched on the tip of my tongue to lash you a few times with run-on sentences. 
My heart and soul in solidarity against my mind. 
What now? 
I can't keep saying I miss you anymore.
Anything else might be too much. 
If I throw in the towel is that giving up on love? 
Is that giving up on you? 
It's nowhere now, but, what, wait..
What if's
Only if, 
False alarm.

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