There was a mournful cry at my door.
And I let her in.
She sensed a change in the air.
And left as quickly as she came.
I was alone in despair.
Remembering all the things I had.
What I lost and what I left.
The scattered petals of a bouquet no one bothered to throw away.
In the morning perhaps I will feel different.
Then maybe I'll see the way.
But for the moment I'm forgotten and it's not the same.
If I had only done it right, then it would all be fixed.
Because I ran so hard and fast.
I never gave myself the chance to find what I wanted.
If I ignore my fear forever
I will never be content.
I'm afraid that I can't be who I promised I would be.
If I made a declaration and then reconsidered.
How could anyone ever trust me?
Sometimes it's okay that it's not the same.