Weird apologies

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?