(no subject)
If I talk only of memory
You'll miss what the heart forces out
As it struggles to express what it wants
In words that someone else understands
I question what has passed
As though the marks it left
Promised more
Each recollection a vague reminder
Of the soul of yesterday
But every feeling is made of tiny scratches
Carved its sensation into that heart
And they write what cannot be read
But what is known
Every word penned is a truth to be kept
By the one who doesn't want it
You'll miss what the heart forces out
As it struggles to express what it wants
In words that someone else understands
I question what has passed
As though the marks it left
Promised more
Each recollection a vague reminder
Of the soul of yesterday
But every feeling is made of tiny scratches
Carved its sensation into that heart
And they write what cannot be read
But what is known
Every word penned is a truth to be kept
By the one who doesn't want it