"Lost, Unspoken Love"
The iris' unwillingness to move
Is the thing that has always forsaken
Our words, our thoughts, our actions - all
That's left to do is retrace them.
Words that could not escape the chords,
Trapped in the throats and the dying lungs,
And they certes were not strong or able enough
To abandon our lips or our atrophied tongues.
Thoughts that were barred by reality,
Although that was what they never would touch;
For as they soared high on innocent wings,
It was the doing of things that remained the true crutch.
Actions that never transmitted through bodies
To discover potential, left in deserts to die
You and I, in the end, were to cause their undoing,
While the absence of doing was our only goodbye.
We knew each other then,
As we still do now,
Even as our distances will still seperate -
Why would we need
To tell what we know?
It's not the nature in which we communicate.
The iris' unwillingness to move
Is the thing that has always forsaken
Our words, our thoughts, our actions - all
That's left to do is retrace them.
But our eyes
Can always
Make excuses
For our minds
To forget
Lost,
Unspoken
Love.
Now that I've poured out my heart to you like an emo kid....
