I look so foolish standing here with my paper heart in hand. What was I thinking?
I wasn't.
I've got little to offer. No stablitity, only passion. No promises, just hope. Not what you're looking for.
It's the same story you've heard before. Someone else has beat me and I am left with nothing else to give. Just more of the same.
I want to walk away, each moment I linger I only cement my own stupidity. Though maybe less so because I am aware.
Or perhaps more so.
I have no excuse and even I have lost sight of what is is I want. Is it you? It used to be. I thought it still was...
But maybe it is only but a shadow of you that I love. A ghost. Nothing with a heartbeat.
And whispers make such horrible companions. Though perisistant ones, to say the least.
Why can't you just run me away? Forbid me from staying. Leave nothing more for me to cling to.
Play fair for once in your life.
Set me free, I beg of you.
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1 comment:
What're you saying in this one, exactly? I guess i'm not positive as to the idea. I like the use of words, however, it flows rather well, though the format is confusing, is it a story? letter? something of that nature? Seems like a prologue to something, maybe your great american novel : )
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