...as long as there's tomorrow
Voices
roaring somewhere in the forests of the brain, recounting to me stories of presence
that should be erased only in the wealth of my melancholy. A lost apple of my
eye who needs to return and fit in this flesh, to complete my youth yet again, only
to prove me wrong…
And
this soul burns in epic flames, asking for beauty when there are no fears
around. A familiar touch of lips offering fresh air, power to restore lost
faith in desolate grounds. Renewed look protected safe and secure in the high keep
of the moans from the past, times where everything else was fading into
nonsense, everything but the two of us. A cry to be saved from the nothing I’ve
become, meaningless as the thought itself…
This
dreamer knows when a dream is over, forevermore… as long as there’s tomorrow,
hopes belong to someone else. Looking deep inside this wrinkled heart, I know
only too well… there’s no desire, nor drive or any remnant of a feeling left
behind… at least not for you…
You are wrong
ReplyDeleteI may be, nostalgia can be a strange thing:)
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