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Dec 2018
We stand alone in DecemberΒ Β air,
The moon our only spotlight.
Amidst a claustrophobic silence
I probe my brain for sweet relief.
Fingers twitch on the vice in my hand;
To blow away my cares,
In dancing rings into the wind,
But still, I cannot speak.

Though I try, I find my words are fleeting;
My lips remain resistant.
And despite how I may want to,
I can't seem to ever say
How much I wish to have your smile
Be so close to mine,
That I could play 'connect-the-dots',
With freckles on your cheek.

So, I hide myself in a thousand miles;
Yet only several feet away.
And I'll isolate the prologue
Of a story yet to start.
Because longing from a distance
Is all I'll ever have;
Each futile gaze I throw your way,
Will further steal my heart.
Pete King
Written by
Pete King  Liverpool
(Liverpool)   
942
   Fawn
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