At the end of the day,
you're lying in bed,
thinking of everything that happened.

What was the first word you spoke today?

That's how much of a blur it is.
Days tend to feel like they have to sprint to the finish line.
And we have to board on that train before it's too late.
But when you want to stare at the scenery,
The train feels like it goes ten times faster...
When is it that you will be able to breathe
And not feel the weight of the world on your chest?
It's not the world that expects too much, or not enough from yourself...
It's you.
You're the creator.
They're the influences.
We never knew.
That's alright. There is still time.
There is always time.
That is why we sleep. We sleep so we can make time.

Now you're lying in bed, staring into the darkness of where the ceiling is.
Perhaps your eyes are closed and you don't even know it.
Either way, your mind has taken over, and dreams occur.
Reality escapes for the time being.
That's when things make sense.
When the sweet serenades of the mind are awakened
and reality falls behind.

In the middle of all this chaos,
there is a moment of silence that captivates me.

It is the moment that I catch your eyes,
and the bliss in my cheeks are apparent to the world.

I can see the glares of desire,
they lurk past all the other bones and figures.

Even though I turn away and hide,
I have the urge for you to find me.

Just like you have found me before,
in the middle of your web.

This urge escalates to a peek out the side,
and I see your back.

You face a woman who is far better;
her curves can speak for themselves.

The chaos begins again,
but her eyes catch mine.

They say more than they mean to,
so I turn away and think to myself.

Silly little droplets of water layering in my eyes,
it overflows when there are too many.

You come and introduce me to your fiance,
and explain that I am from your past.

The disappointment makes me zone out,
past all the things I have remembered.

I am forced to forget,
and in return, regret.

There was no moment;
only memories.

Call me naive...
as a girl who pricked her thumb
from a rose that was given by a careless boy...

I do not remember why I know so much...
or maybe I do, I just have chosen to hide them.
oh the glory in not knowing...

I will not lie to you...
because that would be foolish of me
there is a difference between sharing all, and sharing some...

But it is wise to understand...
that we cannot be naive forever
and the more we know seems to hurt us...

Oh how I wish I were still naive...