but still so kind.
I’ve become impatient,
like I’m running against time.
I’m running to nowhere,
when really all I want,
is to run to you.
But their are parts from you that are hidden,
that I can’t seem to find.
I just need to know,
if I take out my hand,
will you hold on.
It’s easy to hold on to a stranger.
They’re so full of mystery.
Their mystery that keeps them wild.
The unknowingness that keeps you hopeful.
Their openness and warmth to you, without you having to tell them a thing.
Because for them, you’re just that moment.
It’s like you get to start all over again.