But missing was like the wind
It caused turbulence only capable
Of destruction in isolation
Maybe I was reckless with my words
My promises were undelivered
While you were little with words
Your ambitiousness sealed like decree
When hope was all that enveloped us
Your parts and my parts
Are now laid out in the open
On a canvas of a field like a picnic mat
Where our flaws and wounds display
Disfigured hearts we hold in our hands
& our knees stained in dirt
We break when we're breathing
We hurt when we're dreaming
We obviously still love
Are now laid out in the open
On a canvas of a field like a picnic mat
Where our flaws and wounds display
Disfigured hearts we hold in our hands
& our knees stained in dirt
We break when we're breathing
We hurt when we're dreaming
We obviously still love
But we're incapable of fixing.
No comments:
Post a Comment