Weird apologies

To a friend.

Your mind is loud, and so what if it is?
You let it pour trough my fingertips.
’That calls for trust!’ you said.
But trust, my lonesome, is just a mere fret.

For heartbeats are not to be shared away;
We'll never keep them safe, however astray.
The massacre is ours to keep.
So is the love, the frost, the heat.

But of everything I want you to recall,
Is not me, nor us; it’s all.
The little things that made you shiver,
That helped our voice blossom and your own hinder.

Did I imprison you, my friend?
My prison was only built of dry sand.
Don’t worry; I’ll fade away with the breeze.
You know my soul is loud, and so what if it is?