I see you standing there.

Is it the way you hold yourself,

that observant but detached fall of your shoulders, maybe that perceptive stare?

Or could it be the shy upturn of your lips that so draws me to you?

Their faces pass us by endlessly.

Are we us? Am I a part of you?

But amongst the impermanence, the shrug of un-invested shoulders,

I want your name on my tongue to always be true.

I can’t live in my doubt, in my head’s space.

I want to place unadulterated trust.

I don’t exist half of the way.

You and I need to be real. We must.

And when your eyes confront my own

I see the dreams contained within them...

see the thoughts and the pain and the story written upon your pupils and I want you

to confess all of it to me, if you’ll allow me to listen.

It’s Us and Them.

It’s You and Me.

I’ll steal your sorrows.

Run away with me tomorrow.