there's no return to innocence
you can't unlearn the things you know
where does one run for shelter
when the storms rage from below
and I'm sorting through the memories
of moments that are gone
weighed down by all the heavy things
that I keep holding on
and he's like a ghost whose eyes I can see
staring intently directly through me
and the silence is an echo
and I wonder if he knows
how it feels from this perspective
or why he chose the things he chose
and words are lost when weariness
creeps into my bones
and circles come around again
because they long to close.
No comments:
Post a Comment