In a cross between
distortion and redemption,
soft pleas reveal and ease
our hidden tension.
It's only right to fix
the buckled road that led to this:
to mix up what is left
and what there isn't.

I am mixed up in what's left
and what there isn't.

Is love unlimited?
Could I amend all that I did?
admit defeat and use my walls
to bridge the distance?
I'll add my fragment thoughts up
with my heart's holy persistence.
Oh, tell me there's a way
to bridge the distance.

The lengths that I would go
to bridge the distance.

*Perhaps I should
stand still instead
in this specific instance.