we still rise to the same sun we still sleep under the same moon we still read the same words we still hum the same tunes we still feel the same joy we still feel the same blues we still play the same songs we still know this to be true:
we still forget to let go but we still manage to say i love you.
The best poems are never shared. They are written on the insides of our eyelids and each one reads 'You are beautiful.' I cannot speak your poem. I am still learning to pronounce my own. The language of the God who penned the phrase is foreign to my wandering tongue. But I read it. Over and over again while I sleep, stumbling over the words, making mince of all His poetry.
No more false declarations, This "wisdom" I possess, No! In fact, I'm much less, What I say is unimportant, Work was a contradiction, Supporting my addiction And in this moment, I really need guidance, So I'm going to try this...