The Fields.

I could’ve handled what once was,

But what is now, is something i’ll never know.

I took comfort in that,

A hopeful stray is better than a hopeless destination.

Filled with determination, I’ve won the ever going battle against the mourner.

 

On forth to fault the man who stays in the corner

He who dared rid himself of his insecurities.

Knees tucked, hid himself from his face.

Dried eyes amidst the rain.

A heavy heart or one feathered and vain.

It’s all the same.

 

I still miss what once was.

 

 

There is something stuck in my throat.

It leeches on my words,

And rub against my voice.

I could form it in movement,

But the air that pushes through my tongue

would never let the sound project into existence.

Over letters and tripping each sentence,

I build a base for what you mean to me.

 

The lost sky and the grieving ground helped hold it in.

The found voice and accepting kneel to the cold,

I left what I feel and felt, and left you a new part of me to explore.

 

I’m left with what is now.

 

And I love you even more.