When thoughts were just thoughts,
Not shackles of the mind,
When substance was sinful,
Not shortcuts through life.
When love was a feeling,
Not a goal to achieve,
When your presence was peaceful,
Not a name lost in steam.
It's not trust that I lack,
Or a fault in your words,
Not the past that I fear,
Or the fear that it stirs.
It's the way that I love,
To the people I hurt,
It's the closet of guilt,
All the things undeserved.