My heart spills down the mountain.
I watch it drain like a fountain.
Splash on the rocks and splatter,
If my heart was cold it would shatter.
Why must I open myself and pour?
When all I have in store only finds the floor,
While you keep the key to my door.
The more I try to polish the frame,
It only seems to darken the stain.
We speak what we believe,
Words are words , but my hearts on my sleeve.
Your expression left unspoken,
If this is fixed, why do I still feel broken?
Though I know there's nothing left to fear
It's nice to know, but better to hear.