Timing

Timing
Flowers from my parent's home. Victoria, Texas.

His head hangs low, cold wind brushes against chapped lips
There is a bird inside that no one will see or ever get
To and from, to and from, and to and from
Our messages are sent

i feel guilty for messaging someone
who i don't know even wants to know
that i would like to get to know her
but that is emotions stirred

A pot filled with clocks and faces
Happens to be made and erased
After one day and a chance to chase
The next is gone and the canvas replaced

our nights turn into our doubts
complacency, misgivings and the clouds
the waters are blocked and she wishes to flow
he does not want, only to see her go

Is now a good time?
to tell you he would like to see you
i lowercase my stature to appear small
But how can the mighty sea be calm?

Words drawn from tightly wound stitches
she aches to say while he loans and listens
Is it too early or late enough in the day
To notice how ílios shines in your eyes

Awake, to the imperfections
Too much debt on the rise
Out of shape, seeking
a refuge in a system that takes and it takes
And it takes

Shall i wait?
and pretend that this is nothing at all
he compartamentalizes
pays his bills, works out, and the bird falls

picking puzzle pieces placed perfectly
faith, ambition, wealth, love
No, not even love can do that
Not completely

The random nothing fills almost all the mystery
until the door of the caged bird is set free
the wind pushes the door of my heart to open
to the sweet air of your presence

That part of him that is already grounded
To a full stop
An end to a thought
Beginning to think that it was nothing at all