it is the deluge

it is a fight

in the dead of night

a hurt we can't explain

a secret we cannot share

a love we cannot shake

it is the sting of desire

as it heats and hits, it hits

in the places we are broken

in the warmth of all denials

in the face of all we need

it is the fact that we bleed and bruise

when broken, the idea that we are

incomplete outside each other

unfufilled outside of the neon

of blue lights one lightning night

it is a shuddering of senses

the laying down of arms

in a battle we never chose

with weapons we've made ourselves

with the shields we've never had

it is a black bench

swinging slightly with admissions

of the things we have done

of the people we have become

of the future we have lost

it is a picture

silver framed and unassuming

leaking all the memories you have

and i am waiting for the deluge

for the flood that has to come

but it is the dam

you've built inside yourself

concerning all the things that hurt

so i speak soft words, you smile quietly

and i let it go.