Pure dreams of more of you,
Canned love, storing and making more,
You make me wait, or perhaps you’re just a fleeting guide.
I imagine marriage, we have plans and yet,
My weary fingers are broken, can’t count on anything during this mess,
Can I be setting myself up for a loss greater than I’ve ever experienced before?
Hold back my touch, stop producing memories, look away in case we’re not meant to be anything more than welcome signs to different arms.
News. Daily news. Ever-changing blues blended sunrises, setbacks and surprises are we holding on to step away?
Like seeing beauty in a place we’ll never live, passing by on a trip never to be seen again,
Warnings of loving someone unable to break away, caution when loving someone unable or unwilling to stay,
Oh, I know duty calls, obligations crawl, and you must watch over commitment newborns,
Secretly I feel we shouldn’t be so torn I’m afraid hope dies down torn and worn, washed in smooth flooding tear rivers