Be still, my heart — why do you wake me?
The day was long and the night ended so soon.
My heart, do you ache?
Do you long for the things you cannot take?
To live a life that feels like secondhand fate?

My heart,
my heart,
my heart —
don’t run away from me.
I’m not scared of you.
Why would you love me?
You don’t know me.

I’ve worn a hundred names in borrowed light,
kissed mirrors hoping they’d kiss back right.
Built homes in glances, burned them in doubt,
learned to love with all the exits mapped out.

No more, my heart. Be still, my love.
The night is here, and the hour is late.
Sleep, my little lamb —
I’ll carry you
into the pearly gates.