Naked words you sent to me
late that night, fluttering
over the garden thorns:
roses, rocks, and the wind
gently tossed them through the
consuming silver ether.
And they landed, finally, at my feet.
Yet I had nowhere to put them,
insecurity and indecision always stalling,
futures lost and found, pasts tinted with knowledge.
But you are sitting there,
beginning to doubt reciprocation.
Maybe the words will come, someday.
I do not know about the video but the music is amazing, so listen
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