Fairweather /

Slow to Standing

Forcing this to bend until breaking it apart.
Supposing this doesn't have to be anymore than thought.
For now it's not.
And if i could just talk to you and not want to tell it all.
Because it seems I've always known that things change.
Then change.
Just give it time.
So the only consolation is the feeling that I'm going on anyway.
Where motion slows to standing.
I'm building to indifference and dulled inside.
Wait on saying all you're thinking out loud.
These wounds are healing.
It's worth leaving alone.
Just take it to sleep tonight.
Don't say it now.
These words are reactions to this feeling that i will never be alright.