And I wonder
how many times can a heart be broken
before its capability to mend is stilted?
Is it possible
through misfortune that the most beautiful
soul in the world may refrain, wilted?
For the sake
of the lie we tell ourselves every day
I pray she learns to live past being jilted
We're always on the decline
Growing tolerantly unfair
A chill runs down my spine
Knowing she's somewhere
It will all be okay
Will these words wane in whispers?
With water washing the windshield
We could barely see through yesterday