late at night, tallying up the score
trying to understand life
trying to understand what love is for
thinking of all the people i’ve missed
all the feelings i should deplore
wondering what good is more?
accepting whatever happens
it’s been only me, so i can only start with love
and i could never have less
when i live and still feel so much

i was caught up in the moment
but no longer too into it
knowing if it doesn’t hold onto me, don’t hold on to it
detach but learn to intuit
and once the pain stops
let the hurt give you movement
then only trust your words if you can prove them
new spaces, new pages
new graces, new ages
letting go gets better each day
because the memories stay
but the feelings that were meant to remain
will gently fade

in the end, blood dries
in the end, love dies
in the end, doves fly

A. Hymn || in the end

So where do we go from here
Wanting to be close to you
Don’t be fooled, all that I show
I hope is clear, but I feel no where near
Swollen fear, trust can be hard to come by
Scarred we’d run life thinking we’re so hard to come by
But harm is sometimes self-inflicted
Skeletons in the closet hung dry
Will only end up wearing what’s in your baggage
New guests open up
Then blame them for letting a draft in
Shafted, wondering why we’re so hard to come by
Bitter or better? Sweet or sweat?
A nerve is struck
Feeling you’re never heard enough
Feeling you’ve been deserted from
Thinking you deserve some love
Or a nurtured touch
Thinking you’ve discerned your luck
With the right person, you used to bite your lips
Now the words come up
Unsure yet you still confirm they’ll further run
Or maybe you laid the foundation for fertile trust
But yet you still run further
From the truth – and it can be so hard to come by
Life has made me, and maybe some things were not fair
We always hear about how a person is
But never think how they got there
I reflect back, not when, but I watch where
Where in me changed, wherein I changed
Into wearing this worn out wardrobe
More like armor to protect, preparing me
For wars I forebode
To take care of me, for self-preservation
To talk me into recluse, and give myself dissertations
Anytime I’m being accused I just extenuate it
Just more excuses and failed explanations
That later turn into regrets, lessons waiting
It doesn’t seem very logical, but it’s paradoxical
That whenever we regress, we’re perpetuating
Then we’re left here saying
Why are we so hard to come by?

A. Hymn, Trust