we study lips
yet no sound
can convey
what remains unspoken

we draw trees
for every sentence
then refuse
to paint the leaves

every word
we know how to create
but creators
we are not

the history of language
walks our tongues
we admire
without adding

we analyze
written or spoken
to avoid
our own

This
My Fault
This

I felt your light upon my
Chest
With melting Streams
And Rivers
I did Fear

Oceans of Goodness
So Intense
No Thought of Myself
Could I Take

No other could be Greater
For This
I am Alive
Blameless Life
I'm Sorry.

We are just a blur
of emotions, feelings and art.
We don't walk but float
from place to place.
Drifting in our own little bubble of
memories and stories.

Voices exclaiming in the distance,
It's 1:44 am.
I wish you didn't feel so righteous.
But maybe you are right,
There could be better things than this.
And though I love you
And I could be drunk,
And feel empty in the morning.
I can't help but feel what I'm believing in is like what the world finds
Wrong.