Your truth broke me,
right when the clock hit three.
Your truth came back to haunt me,
to tell me what could have been.
Oh, if only I had been perfect,
but I crumble at the sound of the truth.
Now you wrap me with open arms,
and fill me with quiet strength
to hear my truth.
But did you not know it?
Otherwise why lift me up
just to make me admit to it?
Why this burning need to hear me say it?
Let me tell you;
the truth is I found you
when the clock hit three
I thought you found me too –
I turned ’round and looked;
you were standing before me.
You became my truth –
since then, yes.
All this time for you;
it hit us both, I know.
I saw you each day,
walking through the same ordinary door each morning,
waiting for me each afternoon
at three o’clock,
for us to make our way,
‘round the same ordinary place.
I found my truth with hands in his pockets,
eyes on me,
You became my truth;
I teased my truth,
with hidden kisses and three-line poems.
I thought about the truth while you sat behind me;
I dreamt about the truth while your name echoed inside me.
Your truth was unexpected;
your truth was unannounced.
But your truth broke me,
when you said you did not belong to me –
yet, you still saw my truth.
I sat there before you,
with both hands in a wave,
eyes on you,
and a thousand smiles;
now you know my truth.
What must I do with the truth
now that the race is over?
What must I do with the trophy
after my truth crossed the finish alone?
I sat behind you all along,
stirring silently beneath a calm façade,
waiting for a day like today.
The clock hit three,
and my truth broke in front of you,
in all its raw glory, falling on cold pavement.
My truth screamed for you all this time,
waiting for you to claim it.
My truth was real and whole –
what a pity it is to tell me now
that you only gave me half of yours.