At the end of my days I just fade away, after putting on my face, and staring in my personal play.
I just fade away.
The sky fades with me, to bluish gray and I look to it and say, this again has been a hell of a day.
I long for the day when the fading just stays and I no longer contemplate another played through day.

If time is what we need, why doesn’t it pass fast enough.

To wash away the past, it doesn’t take us far enough.

In this life time there’s so much to bare, I could combust.

Is there even enough time?
For us to be us?

I fear that only time could tell, but there may not be enough.

What could time tell me, except there’s a possibility of us or no us?

In due time I tell me, but it proves not enough.

Maybe it would be best, if I simply self distruct.

So, this is what I get.
I think sitting all alone.
All those times I took advantage, I should have known.
Now every sound echos off the walls, in these empty halls.
In now a house, that used to be a home.
Once filled with family, now is only occupied by me... alone.

I let my fingers take a stroll along her back, as I can not walk in her shoes.

I listen intently to her flow of words as to pay my dues.

My fingers end at her waist grasping her and turning her face to face.

I calm her with simple words,
“you’re safe, we are in the same place.”

Though it jiggles when we walk, alerting our imaginary enemies to our location.

Is it not valuable through the same indications, as a full dollar.

Yet broken and singular, when exchanged for goods does is it not accepted?

Why, when we break our dollars is everything regretted.

We can put it back together, but it should be just accepted. As is, broken as it exists.

Festering are the open wounds, the ones that we try to suture and groom. The ones for which we have no room. Though can’t seem to find a way to heal, the ones we don’t see yet surly feel.

It’s inherently evident, given the most evidence that love isn’t an inheritance, but something that is earned.

Not something that’s studied and learned.

but something struggled for like a tunnel built by a worm.

Working it’s way through the surface and becoming deep.

Finding a way to make the tunnels meet, out lasting downpours and extreme lack of heat.

Love is evident, when two meant to be souls meet.