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[unedited, single revision] The problem with moving on. |
Fingertips My aching heart won't let me go a vice grip on her says you left too soon before I could decide just how much I loved you And this pain just goes to show where your place was in my heart a necessary part my daily routine my sanity my life you were - what they call - my everything. With this young mind I doubt myself the strength of these emotional confines but whether or not in 20 years or 30 I will have these feelings, the truth remains that you made me feel something. Now life is long and I will tumble into its greedy arms, twisting and turning feeling a burning they call passion. But how long will I stumble until I can twist and turn remembering you without running back to you and experience this burning snesation upon my skin, frightened but curious I'm frightened but not yet so curious and I don't want to remember you... but I do but I don't but I do but I don't but I-- I cannot feel my fingertips without the warmth of your hands closed over mine Lord, give me a sign some sort of intervention divine that can convince me we will both be fine or maybe not fine at all But these aren't university applications with their cruel automated letters, inscribing the awaited Congratulations! or the dreaded We regret to inform you... Template letters. We are No, we were anything but a cookie cutter case of careful climbing and sudden drop in pace sudden plummet to the base No, we were a flying carpet of highs and lows yes's and no's a sudden free fall upwards or a steady rise to newer lows and I would continue but I don't want to remember you but I do because my heart won't beat, my breath won't start, I can't feel my fingertips without you. |