Yet Tomorrow is Inevitable

We may be tired, with our hands tied down,
the bluelight staining our eyes.
We may be crying with wants to wallow,
to sink down, down, down.
We may sleep in, under the covers, begging to 
steal warmth for our own.
We may long for company and still,
push those we love away.
We may wish for a different life,
to be someone else.
But you are so beautiful when
you hate the world.
But your tears look like falling stars,
ones I could wish upon.
But you want to live in a single, good piece
of time and be happy, happy, happy.
But I beg for my ribs to break so I could pull out
my heart, and give it to you,
bloody and beating.
Yet tomorrow is inevitable,
always coming, always running towards us.
What if we fell in love
with the world, all over again.
What if we admired the small moments and
became hoarders of the mundane.
What if we search closely, for the 
interconnectedness, of all things.
What if we step off the path just to 
watch the trees sway.
What if it rains and we lie,
in a pool of cloud tears, soaking.
Because I, too, fear being perceived.