Maybe I’ll love you better this time, With a blank page towards this life- a canvas in solid white; And not falling into feelings pretty much blind As all this running is being done outside; desperately trying To keep every shadow in line, through the rain-washed days, I’ll catch them running inside. And as the wind so too blows inside; Tearing down all of the displays in my mind… . . . . . . You get to finish the rest