It doesn't make sense.
I can't make sense of it all.

When I looked at you, I used to see everything,
as if the world lived in your piercing blue eyes.

Now, all I see is how many daunting seasons have passed,
countless beyond compare to the amount that have in reality.

I can't explain it,
I can't explain how it makes me feel.

A.C

Riding on the breeze of the springtime’s day
Is the sparrow with her little red wings;
Fluttering, flapping her feathers away,
She flies, unconcerned with life’s little things.

Did she sail through the sky thinking of him?
Or did she glide without a passing glance?
Would she so much as love him on a whim?
Or would he be deprived of any chance?

Shall I compare my love, then, to her flight?
Confused and fleeting on the gentle breeze?
Yet still it floats like the dove and the kite
Staying, unwav’ring on its course’s delight.

If my heart should be the sparrow’s travels;
So should it be sure that love unravels.

'We can't meet. We can't survive. It wouldn't happen ever, the chances of existability are bleak, too good to be true.'
His eyes wouldn't meet mine, fingers entwined, free, trying to pick up a pen, then putting it down, he was fidgeting.
'Give me one good reason why we shouldn't even try.' She was determined.
'Because we're like the train tracks, we run parallel, we understand each other, we're supportive of each other, we can't do without each other. True. All of that and more. But we just can't meet.'
Boy, did he put up a good fight. But she was raised a stubborn kid.
Deep breath.
'But you know, you see, if carefully, in perspective, the lines do meet, intersect. There's that one point. Happens. You just need to be standing at the right place with the right person and looking in the right way.'
A smirk and she knew she'd won.