The hand Slips, I reel under,
Closing my eyes and holding my breath,
And feeling my body light, and my ears pressure.
I forgive like another breathe taken.
Underwater.
Gulp.
Done.
The things that mattered changed; they seem to always,
And unpredictably so,
Though somehow I believe the gut still knows in occassions,
As we ignore reasons to listen.
Love,
Does not matter so,
When in it only a shallow word, no meaning, but a billboard of lies and convenience.
Still though,
It is all that matters,
When whatever the fuck it is,
Is true.
You will know when. At least some of the time.
I forgive him,
Like eating up something already died.
I don't expect much anymore.
I don't expect anything. And would rather box it up. Put it away.
And really,
Just let it drown.
My love for him,
Needs to remain nameless...
Because he is.
As so, were we.
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