The moments we have
Are counted and cruel.
They never leave enough
Room for the words to come out.
Words that beg to be spilled
From my overcrowded mind
And into the vastness of
Your understanding.
I know you know
What I mean.
I never have to ask,
You always just know.
But time is cruel.
And fate is cruel.
And the moments we spend
are merely messengers.
Reminding us that sometimes,
The best things in our lives
Are only allowed in moments
When no one is watching.
We are only allowed to take pleasure
Where no one can see.
And we can only speak of it
In hushed tones,
In the darkened corners
Of the most secreted spaces
In our not quite broken,
But not altogether whole,
Hearts.
Nov 2, 2013
Nov 2, 2013 at 9:35 AM UTC
The moments we have
Are counted and cruel.
They never leave enough
Room for the words to come out.
Words that beg to be spilled
From my overcrowded mind
And into the vastness of
Your understanding.
I know you know
What I mean.
I never have to ask,
You always just know.
But time is cruel.
And fate is cruel.
And the moments we spend
are merely messengers.
Reminding us that sometimes,
The best things in our lives
Are only allowed in moments
When no one is watching.
We are only allowed to take pleasure
Where no one can see.
And we can only speak of it
In hushed tones,
In the darkened corners
Of the most secreted spaces
In our not quite broken,
But not altogether whole,
Hearts.