smoke gets in my eyes
just near my lampshade, now
I see the smile on my wall, and
what would I become if it were
to fade?
I am not a bridge, don't cross me
I sense theres a catch
to what I am hearing
like the truth, so
evasive
you can stay hidden from me
our cords were tangled, somewhere
perhaps in motion
crossed paths, but
escaping devotion,
never mind
I think it's safe to say
one should always reach out, only
go their own way