And I can pretend
the heart to mend
that it will one day undig itself
from the burrows of sadness
left by the loss of all the could have beens
what almost was

I can pretend that it will
heal itself, beat again reborn
without the want for warmth
that fills the burrows weighing it down
stopping it
in the time of promises lost, but to love's eternal doubt

I can pretend the pain will die
there, where the heart lays contrite waiting for the calm of night
to absolve its missteps
to redeem it from the stillness of a prayer that without sound
will never carry
that without light
will not deliver it from
darks of truth

I can pretend
I can only pretend
that we were all, each other's all
and that a lie is alone enough
to mend