the words inside your silence, but I can't speak about your pain for you.
How long can you burn for, anyways?
Turning over and back again with tongues ablaze like lions without teeth, hungry.
Staring at the forests of flames and our eyes just talking with the trees.
If we could drift long enough, we'll be home.
Sails blown by the fire within, pushing me to you.
And you can live inside of me, sewn together.
Breaking, inhaling, growing and breaking, again and again.
And you are a part of me.
You are my home and I'm your home, but I'm no place you want to be.
So I'm out here again, sparks hid behind my teeth.
I won't say a word for fear of failure spreading.
It takes some of us longer to get our dead ends now.
Oh, blood stained with loose living ran through charcoal hearts to make it red.
And we can be on fire again, you and I.
Do you want this?
Well say what you want, say what you mean.
Or we can talk, lung to closed ear.
Head inside a hand turning over again, together.
Cut up with cheap heat running through our veins.
And we can lay brick by broken brick, our ashes pushed in between.
And build this road back home to where we want to be.
We are not our own, we are the same.
0 more than before:
Post a Comment
I love to talk.