Our lives are what matters, situated against scattered stories and pending plots.
I’d take fear of the unknown every day of every hour when defenses drop.

We spoke briefly of quiet things, a midnight kiss that could never exist in the sun or a pacing parade that trampled through the tunnels of our town.

Things are different now, and it’s most likely our fault - just not by choice.
There’s a part of me that chastises myself when I hear your voice.

I’m a method of apology, you - you’re my saving grace.
I choke on the words that aren’t said, not knowing, if said, they’ll find their intended place.

I’ve tried to trade my transgressions for time alone,
and all that I’ve found out is that my fears exists, right there, below.

I gave all of me to yours, in the end, it’s hard to wonder what else is more?

Help me handle hope better.

Even then in my final hour, my mind wandered there, to her.

A static memory, barely formed that did its best to bend and break.
Stacked against me, whispers and weeping, it was my own life I feared I’d take.

A silent cancer soothes my soul, it mumbles “the end is near,”
Yet love comprehends and overflows - making it hard to hear.

Just one more day, another mile, make the new become old,
everything that matters has vanished, it’s this new life that’s gone unsold.

One door closes, and another opens - a chance at something more?
I check the handle, reside to my fate, what is this lock for?