How many times?

How much time does it have to pass
till we no longer live
within a storm?
How many nights do we have to kill
to wake up to the other side of love?
Do we know, or do we pretend to know
that these tears wet our cheeks,
but dry our soul?
Even still, 
we keep on running through the fire 
of our lonely hearts
and it burns like hell,
raised in a glass of wine,
too much wine for a single night.
Yet, we chase our dreams away,
we bury our secrets in our own pain
and we wait…and wait. and wait.
That’s what we do our whole life.
We wait…
For our bleeding wounds to heal,
for our fears to disappear,
but mostly,
we wait for that love
our mind loves to play with.

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