Burn the fleet, we're not sailing home.
I don't know why we can't ever speak. Admittedly it's enough. It's a relief to just know I'm not the only one. It's not just me that's sad and broken and missing and wishing. That's enough. I don't know if we do this because we're poet's and it's just the easiest way we can speak truth. Because real life interaction means posturing, playing it cool, not letting the cracks show.
Or if it's because we both know we have someone and we're reasonably happy and we don't want to hurt hurt hurt anyone else. Because if some thoughts were spoken aloud it might lead down paths we're neither of us strong enough to resist. That we might touch the rightwrong way and ignite like a fire. Even if for just a few short hours before coming to our senses. We both know how easy that can be, how carelessly we devour. And smoke cigarettes afterward.
I just don't know.
Or if it's because we both know we have someone and we're reasonably happy and we don't want to hurt hurt hurt anyone else. Because if some thoughts were spoken aloud it might lead down paths we're neither of us strong enough to resist. That we might touch the rightwrong way and ignite like a fire. Even if for just a few short hours before coming to our senses. We both know how easy that can be, how carelessly we devour. And smoke cigarettes afterward.
I just don't know.