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sally-grantPoems
Between us there are Scant inches, a Microscopic amount of Space, surging with the Electricity of our silence, as Everything Unsaid lies over us, between Us, everything lies Heavily In our minds. I find that There are so few places, now, Left untainted with giddy Memories, everything seems to nag me into A nostalgic depressing, that Leaves me Lost, and desolate, desperately Clutching at Straws, reading Between the lines, searching For some sort of Resolution, some sort of final Absolution that will Help me Understand Why Everything has changed, Why I Have Changed. Between us, there are Scant inches, but Our minds are so Far away, and Miles apart.
0
Nov 2, 2011
Nov 2, 2011 at 3:39 AM UTC
Nostalgia
Between us there are Scant inches, a Microscopic amount of Space, surging with the Electricity of our silence, as Everything Unsaid lies over us, between Us, everything lies Heavily In our minds. I find that There are so few places, now, Left untainted with giddy Memories, everything seems to nag me into A nostalgic depressing, that Leaves me Lost, and desolate, desperately Clutching at Straws, reading Between the lines, searching For some sort of Resolution, some sort of final Absolution that will Help me Understand Why Everything has changed, Why I Have Changed. Between us, there are Scant inches, but Our minds are so Far away, and Miles apart.
Written by
sally-grant
Chilean
Nov 2, 2011
Nov 2, 2011 at 3:39 AM UTC
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