He sits in the corner of my mind
His face is plastered onto the blacks of my eyelids
Like a drive-in movie
A silent film, of course
I replay our short time together,
Which is more accurately described as my time with him
I stop to wonder,
Was I happy then, or do I only remember it that way?
I don’t have to think my thoughts to feel that he is in them
Each time I convince myself that I am completely alone
I close my eyes and he is with me
I close my eyes, and it’s as if he never left
Aug 1, 2011
Aug 1, 2011 at 6:14 PM UTC
He sits in the corner of my mind
His face is plastered onto the blacks of my eyelids
Like a drive-in movie
A silent film, of course
I replay our short time together,
Which is more accurately described as my time with him
I stop to wonder,
Was I happy then, or do I only remember it that way?
I don’t have to think my thoughts to feel that he is in them
Each time I convince myself that I am completely alone
I close my eyes and he is with me
I close my eyes, and it’s as if he never left
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