To Remain Unread

These are the letters I write,
but never send
and they all have your name
scribbled on them.
If the words remain unread,
are they meaningless:
a love never loved
unless professed?
Scales are the measurement
and clocks are the consequence
and I really wish I knew
whether this was your preference
because I'm awake at night
and I don't think that you are,
but I still wish I wasn't stuck
here, so far.
Distance can be counted
and felt
and this is just the hand
that we've been dealt:
for better or worse
and I'll dig through the dirt
'til I find a way to bridge the gap
and end the hurt.
I know I shouldn't say it -
or maybe I should -
but I would change everything
if I could.


********************************************

Mhmm...




"And these clocks keep unwinding and completely ignore everything that we hate or adore..." Bright Eyes A Scale, a Mirror, and These Indifferent Clocks

"Three-thousand, five-hundred miles away, but what would we change if we could?" Counting Crows Raining In Baltimore