(Untitled)

Under backdrop of moon, shooting-stars, and lightning strikes
We sat - like it wasn't really eight years past.

Like the waves stir the deep
So ours words stirred, and made us weak
Eroding our walls and dusting off
The very things we'd hidden, and hidden they wanted us to keep

But deep we did strike as the waves seemed
To pull our pretenses out to sea
And the tears began to flow
Like they had once, so long ago

Except this time was different.
Though the words translated the same
This time, the tears were healing
In an old conversation made new
In an old conversation long-overdue.