(no subject)
I cannot sing,
Not tonight when everything is memories.
The time you told me
about all the music you liked
and I couldn't hear the names
because the clang of my jaw on the floor,
all of this gritty bands
from this small little frame,
as you said each one
as if I should have already known,
and ended with the brightest smile
that showed me that
all my ideas were null and void.
I take that story
like a poem in my pocket,
and pull it out
when I forget how to smile.
You were the one
who reminded me that
love
isn't an obligation,
that it pours from us,
too much sometimes,
because it starts to hurt
to know that someone may not be coming home,
its the curse
that leaves us knowing
the world is about
the openings that let us in.
The tears in the fabric
that leave us feeling naked
but at least we know
the touch of the wind.
I was feeling doubt,
that anyone could know
what it was to
look into a strangers eyes
and see a friend who just needed cheering, that
life is not a battlefield,
the only time to yield
is when you stop
to tell someone how beautiful they look that day,
cause you never know
when a person needs to remember how to smile.
It doesn't matter who the person is
and what they might do for you,
its true
that each time you walked down the hall
everyone was your dearest friend.
It makes it all seem bitter as
I watch the leaves
turn back to earth,
I could say they were dancing
but dancing means they meant to fall
and aren't we all
just dropping to the wind
not knowing when to leap
or jump over the edge,
but still we find ourselves
turning back to earth.
I could scream
at how the story ended
on the day when I watched the snow flakes
hoping no one would have to take the roads that day
and isn't life a twisted merry go round,
where you can't leave the track
and you're waiting to turn back
but all that's left is the day the ride will end.
Friend
this is why I cannot sing
what would my voice provide?
Everything inside
is churning at the thought,
burning to give rise
to something beautiful
but there is no promise I can give
you the picture of
a sweet child
who had a happy ending.
Mending
a heart is not forgetting,
but sending
hands in the shape of a heart
to the sky
hoping you can still see.
Don't listen for me today,
just watch my eyes
and sign
and know that I'm still
remembering.
When I see the eyes
of a child
that wants to know
how to touch the world,
I'll share a knowing smile
and teach them how to sing.
Not tonight when everything is memories.
The time you told me
about all the music you liked
and I couldn't hear the names
because the clang of my jaw on the floor,
all of this gritty bands
from this small little frame,
as you said each one
as if I should have already known,
and ended with the brightest smile
that showed me that
all my ideas were null and void.
I take that story
like a poem in my pocket,
and pull it out
when I forget how to smile.
You were the one
who reminded me that
love
isn't an obligation,
that it pours from us,
too much sometimes,
because it starts to hurt
to know that someone may not be coming home,
its the curse
that leaves us knowing
the world is about
the openings that let us in.
The tears in the fabric
that leave us feeling naked
but at least we know
the touch of the wind.
I was feeling doubt,
that anyone could know
what it was to
look into a strangers eyes
and see a friend who just needed cheering, that
life is not a battlefield,
the only time to yield
is when you stop
to tell someone how beautiful they look that day,
cause you never know
when a person needs to remember how to smile.
It doesn't matter who the person is
and what they might do for you,
its true
that each time you walked down the hall
everyone was your dearest friend.
It makes it all seem bitter as
I watch the leaves
turn back to earth,
I could say they were dancing
but dancing means they meant to fall
and aren't we all
just dropping to the wind
not knowing when to leap
or jump over the edge,
but still we find ourselves
turning back to earth.
I could scream
at how the story ended
on the day when I watched the snow flakes
hoping no one would have to take the roads that day
and isn't life a twisted merry go round,
where you can't leave the track
and you're waiting to turn back
but all that's left is the day the ride will end.
Friend
this is why I cannot sing
what would my voice provide?
Everything inside
is churning at the thought,
burning to give rise
to something beautiful
but there is no promise I can give
you the picture of
a sweet child
who had a happy ending.
Mending
a heart is not forgetting,
but sending
hands in the shape of a heart
to the sky
hoping you can still see.
Don't listen for me today,
just watch my eyes
and sign
and know that I'm still
remembering.
When I see the eyes
of a child
that wants to know
how to touch the world,
I'll share a knowing smile
and teach them how to sing.