Life and love come hand in hand,
not handed
although the nicer end
always seems to be stranded
from everything so happy
everything so pure
hoping someday this hurt will all be a blur
and a blur at that,
is what life will end to be
until the perfect words come so beautifully
no words in which lies entangle themselves
or words that create books
and fake fairy-tales on shelves
but words so charming, heartfelt, and clean
spoken so slowly
words hard to explain their meaning
and letters of a kind
not the kind without thought
words such that a poem, or lyrics couldn't describe
and can't be bought
but for now those words will all be a blur
a blur, by choice
a blur in which chosen not to hear
to not to hear your voice
so as i squint forcefully
i walk slowly away
i hear your voice in the distant
my heart will not let me turn, not this time
there's no fu**ing way
