I can't say that I'm sorry,
Or wish that I'd written a different story,
The stars may not align,
But at least we can say we tried

I don't see you knocking at my door,
You must be slightly jaded or massively bored,
I hear no voices at all,
Just a whisper of what we used to call

"Love"...

I walked straight into your town,
Before the dust had a chance to settle down,
You never voiced your concerns,
But had enough air in your lungs to hurt

This must have just been some game,
For months now it hasn't quite been the same,
You fade the more that I blink,
Is this what I am destined to think

of "Love"...

Call for the aid of divinity,
Call upon the strength of my mother's chains,
Call to the resonance felt within my soul,
When my brother would whistle a tune of transcendence just outside my window.

Employ the courage of my calluses,
They were formed in the darkest of nights,
Ask for an ally in my altered form,
She's had to do this before, many times, never been a stranger to Indigo.

No one warned me about healing,
and that when you begin to let go,
it means working through all the things
you ignored along the way:
every weeping wound,
every halted, furious scream,
every memory you tried to forget,
and even the things you never knew
you'd felt in the first place.

To let go of everything that no longer serves,
I have to go back in time
and tell myself how it is all okay now,
and hope that will be enough
to set me free again.

the kind of love you want to go on forever
the kind when you're three drinks deep into a bar on Sunday night
where you stay up long enough to meet the sun and turn into its fire
that kind of love
let me know when it comes
let me honor it when it is here
and let me let go
when it's time