It’s when children laugh and children cry
that we see ourselves as long-past souls
As abandoned homes, as all alone
as not what we were, as boarded up holes
And we are suddenly aware of our fierce and desperate need,
of our forsaken search to fill the gaps between our fingers
And so we linger
On paths not taken or on trees unshaken
As slowly, through the restless nights
our grade-school vigor retakes control
If but for a second, we stand up from our beds
Our thoughts on early age have given fire to our legs

And we think, for a moment, that we have found what we did lose
Our heart beats fast as we anticipate what madness will ensue
Be careful, my friend, for the world has changed
Be careful, my friend, because this may not come again.
Know that:
Lovers search where love is fleeting
But it’s poison that stops the heart from beating
Lovers search for hearts in need
But it’s chains that keep our soul unfree

tornblueprints:

I knew a boy,
whose every word
was a stutter,
and whose eyes
were permanently downcast,
And I remember
trying to build a snowman with him
from the last traces of snow 
left unthawed by spring,
and he looked at me
and said
in a voice clear as a bell:
Sometimes it hurts to speak.
So I looked down,
suddenly aware that
he was braver than me.