Finding meaning

to know what we are


what we are not

doesn’t help

when there isn’t a time

where i am not completely

in love with you.

writing about you,

not for you but

for me

I am looking for meaning

in every sad song

and even on a hint of smoke

a sip of coffee

and a gaze outside the window

reading verses about

moving on

and i still want to be held

by you.

Does it make sense

still looking for meaning

having nothing to show

with each passing day,

every step taken;

there must have been something right

in all I have done,

for if not

i should have been

completely broken.



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