Let’s Know How All Of It Feels Like

Staring at the walls, 

We've laughed at each other enough.

Now, let's speak out loud instead.

Let's not look into poems and songs anymore.

They speak of old drunk men and women, too high to be us.

Let's speak out loud instead,

Of what our brains know,

And what our eyes have believed,

Of bad faces and good quotes

And white rocks and red leaves. 

With sound waves carrying such words,

We'd do better than the drunkards did.

Staring at the walls, 

We've laughed at each other enough.

Let's speak out loud instead.

Tell me about the place where you go each time you read a metaphor.

Tell me about the blackouts on watching the morning light.

Tell me about that word whose literal definition just doesn't seem right.

For when that word drops by in sentences, you always tend to grab a different meaning. 

And I'll tell you that your interpretation is much more beautiful.

Tell me what you don't want to know.

Tell me about that regretful yes and that guilty no.

Tell me how you'd feel when you'll see a little child smiling on your face with a cannula on his hands and tubes around his body?

Will you smile back at the child or look sympathetically at his mother's tear-filled eyes? Or do both? 

And I'll tell you that we would do neither of them.

Tell me how villains have been more inspiring for you than superheroes.

Tell me how 'good' is defined and how 'bad' is ignored.

Tell me how you'd feel to hear bullets nearby and know some men are dead.

And I'll tell you 'dead men' is supposed to be nothing if they're enemy and to abide this isn't a sin either.

Staring at the walls, 

We've laughed at each other enough.

Let's speak out loud instead.

I'll tell you how it feels to be loved by everyone but the one you choose.

How the shadow lingers among every true flesh confessing love.

How it stabs you and yell 'you lucky girl'

You'll tell me how it feels to be loved by the one you love.

Tell me how good it was.

Tell me how bad it was when it finished.

Tell me how you're still haunted by the memories.

Tell me why sips of your whiskey alternate between someone's memories and your future.

Let's know how all of it feels like.

Let's close our eyes, stretch our legs, loosen our wrists and feel. Feel it together.

You and me.

No one else.

Let's sit together with a white flag hoisted on the table.

And let's explain it well.

In the end, I'll stare your eyes,

You'll be staring mine

And we'll laugh on us.