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Description
Your pain is so vocal there are volumes on shelves
detailing all the things you’ve seen,
There are so many chapters, the library’s large,
But you never did figure out how to read,

At least that’s what I must assume
Since you look past those books towards the ceiling
Waiting for me to absorb your thoughts,
Though you can’t even tell what you’re feeling,

You’re forgotten how to fall in love,
You press your fingers together, saying it’s there
In braille that you cannot fathom
But can feel under your fingers when the book’s not there,

And because you can feel it, you can hold it close,
It doesn’t matter what the words say,
And because you never think of it, you’ll never lose the thought,
And without loss you tell yourself you’re not afraid,

Maybe those novels are all empty pages,
The shelves built tall enough for you to stay hiding,
But to stop cobwebs and dust from filling the hollows
I suppose you had better get writing.

Description
Your pain is so vocal there are volumes on shelves
detailing all the things you’ve seen,
There are so many chapters, the library’s large,
But you never did figure out how to read,

At least that’s what I must assume
Since you look past those books towards the ceiling
Waiting for me to absorb your thoughts,
Though you can’t even tell what you’re feeling,

You’re forgotten how to fall in love,
You press your fingers together, saying it’s there
In braille that you cannot fathom
But can feel under your fingers when the book’s not there,

And because you can feel it, you can hold it close,
It doesn’t matter what the words say,
And because you never think of it, you’ll never lose the thought,
And without loss you tell yourself you’re not afraid,

Maybe those novels are all empty pages,
The shelves built tall enough for you to stay hiding,
But to stop cobwebs and dust from filling the hollows
I suppose you had better get writing.