I hear history in the most convenient way,

Like why there's so much space between heaven and this place

Where you like to smoke your cigarettes in pain while you decay.

And I'm dispensable, but still, I stay,

And that's not so, but it does resemble truth.

Some candor can be concentrated into absolutes.

Time changes everything, they say, though misinformed.

It seems that all this distance to which we have both conformed

Won't fade. The quiet is so striking.

I've laid in waste, in silence, contemplating grace,

And my, it's a marvel to behold.

So I'll be fading and contemplating grace.

My observations through the years have led me to conclude

That you will always find a way to hide some sides of you,

But when the clouds roll in, I notice in their hanging gloom

That you are offered consolation, or some deja vu.

Your eyes are heavy to the point you tend to keep them low

While your broken body struggles to carry the load,

But I know that I am still the punchline to the joke.

The letters in your skin tell such a somber story

Including distractions, ambition, and unmentioned things.

We've both had our missteps and I've run my mouth,

But these embers of ours, I think they're out.

Our attempts at engagement are vain, but we know what's been left unspoken

With our toils and troubles in tow, we keep our glasses half-full.

Not even faintly do we show remorse in our lurid reflections,

And although I'm not bearing these charms, you should consider me armed.

Now you imagine that you outlast your past and your flashbacks combat the black

Instead of reminding you that the time that you spent trying to find

Some meaning in the misery is leaning toward frivolity -

I know this because it's killing me.

You owe it to the mystery to shake the tree of breaking free

From the sordid performers who wore your core sore

And chased you to a place of wasting face, waist and base

On the folks who at most stoke the smoke that evokes your false hope.

I won't call you by name, but through your migraines, I feel you've explained

Some of the pain in a way that contains the refrains of your DNA.

Not that my tower is ivory - it's dour what's inside of me

And sour is what many see in my hours of indecency

So I won't be pretending that I'm extending some unbending advice for ascending this life,

But I do believe that though our souls grieve, we know that we were born deceived:

Never will there arrive a time that you and I are side by side

Or even reside in each others minds so I'm resigned to leaving our twine untied.

I guess what I'm saying is I'll forever be weighing this and delaying what I'll miss

When I at last dismiss an auspicious wish that's gone amiss

Because I'll always relate to the place where my heart raced as I traced your face while contemplating grace.