I still long for your hug.
I can't stop my eyes from tearing up whenever your memory decides to trouble my peace.
Maybe you were right; I can't help but see you in the flawless image I first drew.
I can't help but feel the innocence shinning through your face, the warmth of your eyes hugging me.
Should I consider myself a left toy?
Was I an ugly one, or did you realize you had something more beautiful?
I'm happy I had you.
I know you still have me.
Maybe someday my malleable heart'll into stone.. I promise though you'll find your name carved at the center.
You left me hungry for your love but I don't know how suddenly I feel so satisfied.
I expected myself to break and bruise my own skin with the shattered pieces of the glass castle we once built.
It was only one rock, one that was aimed so wisely, that made everything fall apart.
I still don't know who threw that rock.
I often find myself wondering.
I still believe there are some metal boxes in that house, boxes that not even that rock can break, that not even your flame can burn.
I hope you're able to find the treasure I find when I open them.
Probably you saw our castle as a little camp.
The weekend's over; it's time to go home now.
I thought I was your home.
May 31, 2014
May 31, 2014 at 2:37 PM UTC
I still long for your hug.
I can't stop my eyes from tearing up whenever your memory decides to trouble my peace.
Maybe you were right; I can't help but see you in the flawless image I first drew.
I can't help but feel the innocence shinning through your face, the warmth of your eyes hugging me.
Should I consider myself a left toy?
Was I an ugly one, or did you realize you had something more beautiful?
I'm happy I had you.
I know you still have me.
Maybe someday my malleable heart'll into stone.. I promise though you'll find your name carved at the center.
You left me hungry for your love but I don't know how suddenly I feel so satisfied.
I expected myself to break and bruise my own skin with the shattered pieces of the glass castle we once built.
It was only one rock, one that was aimed so wisely, that made everything fall apart.
I still don't know who threw that rock.
I often find myself wondering.
I still believe there are some metal boxes in that house, boxes that not even that rock can break, that not even your flame can burn.
I hope you're able to find the treasure I find when I open them.
Probably you saw our castle as a little camp.
The weekend's over; it's time to go home now.
I thought I was your home.
http://lonelywithwords.wordpress.com/2014/01/06/i-thought-i-was-your-home/
