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As the seasons changed like lanes on the highway of 2013
in the colours racing By the side of the road
you caught my eye, holding drumsticks and a little cardboard
sign with the destination:

Home.

Wanna ride? Hop in. You're not alone.

If our first date is imprinted upon my memory-
our first kiss is carved into my bones
and as we tickled, and grabbed, and sighed rummaging through our pieces begging two to align- there was poetry in trading your broken heartbeats with mine. And as we arranged them upon that little cardboard sign we found that if we held them quite firmly, we could make one whole heart- breathing carefully on it to make the fire start and we vowed.

We vowed that one heart would beat for us both, if we held on tight,
and the vow made that day for a while felt alright.
When your heart is shattered beyond recognition, write beat poetry?
It's being stuck in a dark room
Separated from the light of happiness, by a cruel locked door
That has a small viewing glass for you to see
What lies on the other side,
Within your reach

It's having what seems like an entire ring of keys
To open the door, yet they're all the same key

It's refusing to stand up,
To take advantage of the little bit of light
That shines through the viewing glass for you

The little bit of light that'll show you
You keep recycling the same key
Over and over again

Because you use the dark to see
What is depression?

It's being stuck in a dark room
Separated from the light of happiness, by a cruel locked door

Fitted with a small window just big enough for you to see
What lies on the other side, within your reach

It's having what seems like an entire ring of keys
To open the door, yet they never seem to work

Depression is refusing to stand up,
To take advantage of the little bit of light
That shines through the viewing glass for you

The little bit of light that'll show you
You keep using the same key
Over and over again

Because you use the dark to see

— The End —