Pining, pining, pining for all that should have been. Lost expectations drifting elusively from our grip, as if the only object to exist is the thing lost from our grip. The eternal gaze upon the very thing that ceases to be, hope lost is the love that drives, blurring our eyes from what is and what should be. I reach for you and you reach for me, the timing of our gaze out of synch, deaf tone heart beating in a fractured dance. Free me from this self-inflicted prison, I pull you down from the heavens and you pull me from the earth, in the middle we meet, is this where heaven lies? Tell me the end my love, read me the story of us to be, at the beginning, at the end, I not know where I be.