Whenever you wake up on a Sunday morning with an aching head, do you remember the things you said when it’s two in the morning and the bright full moon has sunk behind the thick blanket of grey? Do you still see the cloud man with his fist up about to punch someone from the sky? Do you still find the words to say what you couldn’t say? Do you still watch people, do you still fall in love with a smile, the same glance that fades before you can smile back? Will you ever fall in love with a moment as rare as knowing someone as if you’ve known a stranger all your life? Do you close your eyes and still see the very image you turned away from? Do you know by this time, how you should have said goodbye? Have you won over your desires, your fear, your pride, your ego, your pretense, your sin. Have you ever known what you truly want, who you really love besides yourself. Have you ever admitted that you lost to your own selfishness. Have you forgotten the warmth of the embrace that you never felt, the kiss of the lips you’ve never touched. Have you forgotten the taste of the love that was against reason, and against time, against the laws of men. Had it made you realize what love truly meant, who you should value more above anything. Have you known what you can’t let go and who you can’t live without. Did it ever meant a thing.
Whenever you sleep on a Saturday night with an aching head and your heart’s a mess, with a call you’re about to make on one hand and a bottle of beer on the other, have you ever thought? That I was the confession you never intended to make.