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"untitled"
by theusedpoet (2005-01-03.02) |
you come to me. to me on this night. when all my things are packed and against the wall a couple feet frum the door.
you don't barge in.
you creep. softly like a melody that brings along a sweet memory. a bittersweet memory.
and i'm thinking of you. smiling about you and things you've said. stuff we've done. the days down at the lake. on that shore. the rocks underneath us heating up frum the sun. me leaning back into your arms.
it was so quiet. so peaceful. nothing like the city lights which comfort me now.
nothing like the reality of now.
but still you are here. have always been here. quietly. unintruding. just here. with me. a part of me. a huge piece. and i don't even know how you've done it. how you've created yourself this huge place inside me. with a fire. and a lake. and memories that only bring a smile to my face. that summer. that winter. that night under the northern lights.
i won't forget you. i don't think i ever could.
because even now when we are cities apart and i only have the lights to remind me, i look over and see your rose in my mirror. i see that soft smile on my lips. i remember the tenderness. the rawness.
the realness.
and my heart wakes frum its slumber.
only to find you are not here. and the chance fallen.
but you still have this piece. i still have these memories.
i'll survive off dusty tears. faded smiles. and stale memories. and the hope that one day you might really be here. might be standing in the doorway staring at my things all packed by the door. might take me in your arms and tell me no more
there's no more reason for us to be alone.
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