As I was scraping and painting this house back to life I thought that I would know peace
That the home I had never felt had finally become revealed to me.
Now I fear that home, he is talking about a place that is a forever place
A love that is a forever love and I feel that old fear creeping in
The distrust of my past choices lingering like an old sickness
I can’t help but remember the words that we spoke to one another
Not this we but the old one, the me and her one,
And though we always said the words hesitantly, laughingly like we didn’t believe them
Because you know…even though we were stupid we were wise
Here I am in the now and all that was said isn’t true
Perhaps it was true as it was spoken
we thought if we said it first we could find the time later for the believing
but his is belief first, he is audacity and ruin and truth, capricious and unmoored
he is a wild storm at sea and I am hoping for an anchor and dreading an anchor
and choking myself with the idea of a chain
what is time if not a chain?
Linear and unbroken but made of of tiny pieces called moments.
There was a moment when I first moved in that this felt like forever.
