We seldom search for silence,

The sounding sweetness of our souls,

We’re desperate, dark, deserters,

Pristine, pretending we are whole, 

Forced and fake, our fortunes, 

Embrace the empty echo of our past, 

We speak as if our hearts won’t shatter, 

Yet grieve as if we are made of glass, 

Is there a heart without the heavy, 

A secret smile without the sad, 

Can we breathe beneath the broken, 

Or are we betrothed to all that’s bad?

It is making love that courage craves,

Clearly we are cowards, creating walls, 

We lust for lovers beneath our lips,  

Yet pride prepares us to fear the fall.

Knees and knuckles bruised and bleed, 

Crawling, knocking on locked doors, 

Behind them ne’er a fucking thing I need,

Until I unlock mine, I’ll yearn for yours.