I could not sleep at night lately, and sleeplessness is ordinary.
And mine eyes are blurred by such exhaustion: blinded, slowly.
But you are my beacon of hope, and hope is more than scarce to me.
And it’s nothing else but scars I see, a pattern that decorates my body.
The pain that I feel, so plenty, it fades away when you come close to me.
And when mine eyes and yours finally meet; two souls leaving their bodies.
Intertwined by fate and neglected by time. Far too much pain, yet we never cry.
And what is it that could stop our plight? For the heavens is the very thing we deny.
And even though how hard we try, we could not, would not, accept that time still flies.
But what is more to life then to lie and wait? For everything goes away, and that’s okay.
I could not sleep at night, without wishing that you’re here by my side.
Two very small blots of Chinese ink, travelling at the speed of dark light.
You come forward with no promises, nothing else matters and that’s alright.
Each and every kiss is an heirloom we pass down to every blacks that has life.
And our nights are far more lonely than what it used to be. It’s nothing to me.
You and me, we were never here and we would never hear the screams of our fears.
We would love, and loving is too short. So if we would love: it’s either that or mort.
And our stories are not at all short, we build them up just to see them get destroyed.
But without love, joyful hatred appears. And that too would one day cease to appear.
So what is it that we hold on so tight too? What else is there, for us, to even hold dear?
It’s nothing more than our complete and utter failure in comprehending all the lost tears.
We have no where else to turn.
And we would, probably, never learn.