-part of the cliché
as we're runnin up these words, playgrounds look foolish.
we could play the Giants in our dreams
but we don't want anymore shadows there.
we're the ones who cry but still don't know why.
mature lover,
mind's beds beg for you.
love is gone and you should have known better.
suffering neither makes sound nor washes feelings away.
we should all fall apart and be thankful for the ground for hosting us down.
these moments are mine
the can see what you can't see
they can absorb what you ignore
moments are drops in an ocean unknown.
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