EP 4: Concrete

I don't mean to dig up the past

Just let me clear out the cemetery in my voice

I sit here before flowers

Hoping they will train me to open up
I stand before mountain tops
Believing avalanches will train me to let go
I may sit here before you, and know nothing

But yet I'm still here to learn

I accept that today may be imperfect

I accept that I may be as well

What I don’t accept is that imperfection should be the crutch
I use to excuse myself from participating in joy

Because to be honest I said

“I miss you”

What I meant to say was

“I love you”

What I wanted to say was that

“I meant what I said”

It’s funny, how all those things flooded my head

As we we’re saying goodbye

I should have told you
“That I would hold you, until my skin crumbles into bone”

“Because I am willing to die alone”
But God knows I don’t want to live that way

And yet she lives the poetry

That she can not write

So today, be the weed that grows in the cracks of concrete

Be beautiful

Because the weed, doesn't know

It wasn't supposed to be growing there

So I guess at the end of the night
Is just a repeated pitch

Only because
Tonight is just tomorrow

Redacting Yesterday

With any possible mistakes you may have left behind

But that enough about flowers and mountains

Cause I’m not here to dig up the grave of the past

I’m just here today for yesterday’s funeral

That is late for tomorrow