I don't want to think anymore
I don't need to rewrite the scenes
I can't white out what happened but I can tell you it did happen
When we're caught up in the moment and the moment is overlooked
Millions of moments later, that moment is a pigment of your imagination
It's no longer what happened, it's what didn't happen
It's a tangled chain among hundreds
There's no point to rewind the moment
We are only as present as each second unwraps
And when it does unfold, we're already gone
When there is silence there is something to be won
Not everything is done in spoken word
My mind doesn't let me forget you.
The memories are missing in my mind as much as they are found.
I wish there was a way to make you see,
I wish there was a button to make you believe in me.
If we can't be ourselves at all times, who do we become?
What's better than being present?
That's why I can go back to the darkened hollowed out walls of my mind
And remember why we met. Remember who I was back then.
We always change. We experience something, whether it good/bad/happy/sad
We change. We change constantly but we never change who we REALLY are.
Who we are may take different shades, different colours of our true self
We never go too far to hide behind the shield of acceptance
That's all we really want, is to be accepted
Whether we are accepted by ourselves or others that's all we want
That's all we need. We can't be at constant wars with ourselves or others.
What happened to peace, love and understanding?
I just want to believe. I just want you to be real. I want you to see,
What you're doing to you
You're doing to me.
2 comments:
Those moments were sweet, bitter, and everything between, growing me into something more.
It happened.
'Twas a point in time where time stood, where time watched and waited to see what would come next - how our story would unfold like the opening of the morning glory.
My mind won't let me forget you tampoco.
I've been your 'friend' for a long time, yet I don't really know you, who you are, who you've been.
I've been on the outside looking in, catching glimpses of her as she goes about her life, wishing I was there, wishing we were there. Where she goes, what she does, how she does. Her friends, her happiness, her frustrations, her triumphs.
The button has been pushed. It was so when you first wrote to me. I want you to believe. I need to gaze into your eyes. I need to talk to you face to face. I need to understand.
Or maybe it's better this way. Maybe you don't need to see me again. Maybe it was meant to be. Maybe it wasn't. Maybe...
I've often replayed our conversations over and over, thinking about those moments in time when we were all that mattered, and where nothing else did.
When letters placed in an order were as ambiguous and problematic as said cart and horse.
When late nights and struggling words came flowing as fast as an ocean or as slowly as a trickling stream. These are the nights I will remember. This is the night I remember.
I remember them all.
who are you anon!?!?!
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