How do I tell you I love you? What language do you understand?
I'd speak it to you if only I knew.
I know it's absurd,
unheard of.
I know it's pathetic,
this silly rhetoric
How do I tell you I love you when you're so far away from me now?
You're gone, baby.
I don't know if you'll ever be back.
And these declarations of love I want to give to you seem like pathetic attempts at holding you.
I don't want to hold you.
I can't hold you.
You wouldn't let me if I tried.
I wouldn't want you if I did.
Love is never holding.
Love is a release.
It's a letting go,
a protrusion,
never an intrusion
but often a recess.
I'd be your recess.
I'd be your place to lay down when the road got too weary.
I'd be your pot of soup on a cold, dark winters night.
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I did not struggle in your web.
It was always my aim to get caught.
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