My second hand heart
wants to turn back time to that split second moment when your hand was in mine.
Every time I drift
something always carries me back to your embrace.
Shattered dreams become
glass shards beneath our bare feet on roads we must walk.
There was a time when you and I
were impossibly tied to one another, when we reached the ends of our ropes we had no place to go but each other. Years of the world trying to pull us apart had only made us more tightly bound, but when it came time for us to part there was no way we could be unwound. The problem with knots is when they get too tight and you no longer want them teathered, you're left with a single heartbreaking choice: one end needs to be severed. A rope that's cut will lose its strength and the ends will begin to fray, so one would expect it to loosen in time until it finally falls away, but even though my end was cut the day we were torn apart, the piece of me that remained tied to you became the chains that still bind my heart.
Overhead the stars align
and dance in eyes that brightly shine, anxious waiting parted lips and eager aching fingertips. Desperate waves eroding land between the places where we stand, shallow breaths that mirror tides begin to swell and well inside. Winds echo lost fairy tales, a gentle breeze becomes a gale, the final leaf clings to the tree while our hearts long to be set free, and every wall we've built around will finally all come crashing down as you and I are swept away by a kiss that strikes the break of day.
Heartbreak is only
the time that exists between two eras of love.
I remember being a young boy
who was afraid of stormy days, I knew that a sudden gust of wind could come and take you away. I promised that I would never let go and to keep you within my sight, but I didn't give you the freedom to soar and often pulled too tight; so one autumn day, you broke away, I stood outside until spring, but the boy who went out that windy day became a man holding onto a string.