I know my standards should be raised from someone who hardly acknowledges my being a person, but every day of every week of every month the smallest recollection of you cause an overwhelming sensation of euphoria, not even happiness but euphoria.
I ponder the smallest conversation, the faintest touch; every piece of you gives my being more reason to go on. And you don't even know it. But still I say: euphoria.
When given the chance my mind runs races of just what we could be. All far fetched-- all ungraspable fantasies, but the thought of us as one keeps me afloat. Euphoria.
I force myself to stop, to grasp the truth instead, I loathe these sensational battles with what will never be. But I always pray to feel it again:
Euphoria.
May 6, 2016
May 6, 2016 at 1:42 PM UTC
I know my standards should be raised from someone who hardly acknowledges my being a person, but every day of every week of every month the smallest recollection of you cause an overwhelming sensation of euphoria, not even happiness but euphoria.
I ponder the smallest conversation, the faintest touch; every piece of you gives my being more reason to go on. And you don't even know it. But still I say: euphoria.
When given the chance my mind runs races of just what we could be. All far fetched-- all ungraspable fantasies, but the thought of us as one keeps me afloat. Euphoria.
I force myself to stop, to grasp the truth instead, I loathe these sensational battles with what will never be. But I always pray to feel it again:
Euphoria.
