Words are unfound, lost at sea.
It's wishful thinking that he'll really see.
Love speaks boldly, but is muffled by the brain.
I wonder does he know mine isn't silent, much like the rain.
Each day is like a hurdle I stumble forth.
A gentle "hmm" seemingly determined my worth.
What it's like to battle the storm of brazen thoughts in the mind?
I've tried to explain it but a thousand times.
Trying what is preached to be correct
is much easier said than done,
though the result depends upon the one.
Yearning for a love ever-lasting
is a dream that's often found passing.
One may wish it stops for a beat,
realizing this is the place it wishes to stay.
Some things just aren't meant to be,
but let us hope that's not the fateful end of this story.
"Let me inside to repair," I yell up but no one is there.
Please come, allow me a look,
the more I wait the more, inside, I hurt.
Our love is so sure it's unsure,
uncertain of what lies ahead in its path.
Worrying of questioning itself in fear of its own wrath.
