Lost on the sea of regret

I always thought you were far too pretty for me to ever dream about asking you out to a movie or into my bed or over and over, to the opening chords, again and again.

But I do know a lot of things, like how many feet there are in a mile, and how fast light travels, and what it sounds like when a broken heart hits the floor, scattering.

So I wonder and wonder, and sometimes I just can't breathe from the longing and the hopes and the dreams and devilish schemes that live here inside me.

But I did know instinctively howwhenwhere at the darkening moment when words have no meaning, to touch you, and I know how it feels to fall deeply in love, but to find out that I’m there an hour too late; but then not to know I’m too late until morning.

And I think I know a good song when I hear it, but I just never know quite what it’s about.

And I never know when to say when; or when to keep going but I do know that all will be well if I can.

And I know not to ask why, though why I’m not sure.

But IdocareIdo because caring and burning with fervent desire is feeling a little like living and dying, and dying of hope in the moment that’s fading away.