you've got yours up on a carousel.
my story stays hidden, cause it's scared of answers,
while yours only looks for an answer to dwell.
I try to wear my heart on my sleeve,
but somehow, you're already there.
and although life isn't hard for me,
we're both in need of repair.
Your crying breaks off a piece of me,
as my heart falls under attack,
and having the chance to hold you up,
well, that just puts that piece back.
If life's full of ignorance, and echoed replies,
that we realize are only our own,
then why don't we hold onto each other,
so love won't be postponed?
© 2010 The Still Air