I cannot tell which way prayers will turn and waiting for you to finish is unbearable
Therefore I know walking away is best in all of the temporary heartache brought
High hopes are foolish, expectations cruel, desire mockingly flagrant
Perhaps love is suicide, bringing an early death to open hearts
All of my dreams and plans dashed into my eyes, cold debris.
Surely wanting affection shouldn’t be war and yet echoes of love being a battlefield blow trumpets
Some claim to be without decision in confusion as no decision is one
Years of wondering if I’m good enough brought to trial exposed
And do you have any idea how much love I have stored, even when I’m mad there’s no room in my packed storehouse
Seemingly infinite, for naught
Tears secretly planted so I may realize some destinations can never be fully embraced
Maybe in death, mind finished firing pain, I’ll find rest, the peace I was looking for with you.