and names convey the love we show
and likewise disregard we hold
for everything we know.
We think on each name carefully,
and sitting up late nights, discuss
what each thing to us seems to be,
and give each name accordingly.
We name the spaces in between
the star-lit nighttime trees,
the songs that we pretend to sing,
the feelings that we need.
But we grow tired of naming things
when things no longer will be named,
when thoughts defy our verbal skill,
but press upon us all the same.
When all our words lay down to rest,
we still sit up, awake.
What is the kiss that fills the space
when words are scared away?
things from my heart always get so technical, but I'm not going to go into it... you'll see what you take time to notice.