Oh darling am not afraid of loosing what isn’t mine.
Am not here chasing, repeating mistakes over time; I’ve learned from the past, and I know well of the certain uncertainty of tomorrows with no present plans.
Left the long words explaining myself, in the tic of the clock’s hands that since have left.
Only today is more certain than everything else, we are now able to see.
Yesterday departed, and I’ve never heard of tomorrows that weren’t made today.
If I can’t see you now, where is your heart dear mine? I promised myself happiness for once this time.
This heart is worn of lies, and all my life is been my own hand, painting all the hopeful lines.
More than lovely words carried in eulogies, honesty is king. For what is to be owned in heart and mind, when the body and time are spent living lies?
What the actual meaning is past imagination, the whole of the word adoration taken into action.