. Was it so long ago
when you last held my hand,
stroked my hair,
said my name out loud?
.. Were you so lost to me, not noticing,
when I last searched for you
in a crowd,
in my heart,
in all that I have allowed to define me?
... Was it so painful
That i can't find my way back
to you who does not want me?
and i tread on in an outpouring of "if only's"
This isn't a work of poetry. They're just thoughts. Pipe dreams. Words for someone who will never read them. And if he happens to find his way here, someone who will never understand just how close he got.
1 comment:
thanks for the comment gel. yes. writing this definitely helped. but if i think about it, everything i write is, in fact, therapeutical. every word is actually just an extension of the emotions that flow from inside me. a communication to an anonymous "someone" and even perhaps to a silent self. ^___^ thank you for dropping by!
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