It's funny, I think.
I guess it doesn't matter
If my soul is whole
Or torn and tattered.
There's a part of me
That finds peace in the night.
But that part of me
Doesn't always sound alright.
I like to wake up early,
When the world is still dark.
I sit and I wait,
To see if I recognize any part.
I am often reminded
Of hearts I've held in my palms.
I remember them fondly,
Each and every one of their songs.
Some nights,
The past drenches me in a cold sweat.
Some nights,
You remind me not to forget.
Some nights,
I can't tell my truth from their lies.
Some nights,
I find my home staring in your eyes.
I feel myself falling
Into pools of blue
Twirling threads of gold
That always lead me back to you.
Living in your heart
Is walking through a forest
On a cool, mid-Spring morning.
The waking birds and budding flowers rapidly become our chorus.
The ground beneath me
Sinks and soon gives way,
I plummet through the night sky
And find myself waiting on every word you say.
You brush my hair behind my ear,
Kiss the top of my head.
I realize you still think I'm asleep,
As you hold me close to you in our bed.
I smile to myself.
Old wounds begin to seal shut,
Scar tissue holding strong.
My soul, though worn, no longer cut.
Falling into the warmth
Of the heart I know so well
Reminds me of the life we share
That I always tend to dwell.