Sweeping.

It’s time to make peace
With all the broken pieces
That we left behind.

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Flooding windows.

One day, I will know.
One day, I will be able to comfort you.
Your pain hurts me in indescribable ways.
I am ashamed I cannot understand you.
I wish I knew that same feeling.
Those hot, salty tears streaming down
Your face long to be understood.
And though I will never wish bad on anyone,
I cannot wait for the day
I cry the same tears you cry.
So when the day finally comes,
I will comprehend the same language
And we won’t have to use tears
To say what we truly feel.

Unspoken home.

The future awaits.
The long, head-aching days.
The joyfully bright, sunny days.
They’re all waiting to happen.

The twists and turns that life takes us on
Lead to a greater road that takes us home.

And the best part is we get to choose.
Who we love, how we feel, what we do.
It’s up to us to discover what makes our world spin.

And if we never do,
It will be okay.
Because home can be the future.
The comfort of the unknown.

Home.
Something we find, embrace, enjoy, forget, leave, but will always come back to.

Spilling.

You say things without realizing the commitment.
Those words ease my mind, but only temporary.
I’m tired of the unanswered questions.
The unfulfilled declarations.
Disappointment, everywhere.
Overflowing.
Over this.