Jan 1
I think about that moment where I left,
I lost all courage and strength, I couldn't even bring myself to the thought of it, to tell her I'm leaving.
I suppose the uncertainty of seeing her ever again should have driven me to give her a close to that chapter, our little infinity where time and space were defeated.
Nothing drove me to tell her that so I ran like I do in instinct, I hoped a little that I wouldn't have to see her because I would stand where I was and weep. Weeping would be a pale description of what would have happened.
It would be a canvas of the flipside of what I left for her and all our secrets would been out in the open.
Perhaps that's what drove me to run and what drove her to see me again in that moment?
I think it'll haunt me forever, the way she stood in the shadows, I could see she hid herself from the world but I still saw her in the dark of it. She sealed herself in, the secrets of who she is buried somewhere only I know, somewhere only we know?
This is paradoxical, I know but I wish I saw her eyes again and I'm glad I didn't.
I didn't see the grief they held, I wanted to be there to guide her through it but I was the cause, I'm glad I didn't see them because I'll never be able to forget it, I'm already a deeply unhappy person and sadness sinks it's teeth on to me deep all my life, I could never remove what I could seen then.
I just miss her eyes, I just hoped to see them one last time, the light of her founding fires shining bright in them, I see with more than just my eyes, she knows that. I wanted to feel their warmth again so I wish I saw them.
Grief is just the uneven, cruel and malicious tapestry of a homesickness, it longs to be somewhere else to be in its true form but it cannot be.
So it burns, cuts and cleaves through you because it knows nothing else in a foreign land.
It'll wean and fade eventually to be buried within, even grief can grow tired but I have to go through it completely otherwise I'll become something else entirely and someone she won't recognise.
Hope is the only way, there is no other. The power of faith in a light unseen has to be strong because it cannot be anything else. I must hope it to be or I'll lose myself in the dark, never to be found again.
I want to be found again, someone knows how to and I hope she comes, I hope.
I lost all courage and strength, I couldn't even bring myself to the thought of it, to tell her I'm leaving.
I suppose the uncertainty of seeing her ever again should have driven me to give her a close to that chapter, our little infinity where time and space were defeated.
Nothing drove me to tell her that so I ran like I do in instinct, I hoped a little that I wouldn't have to see her because I would stand where I was and weep. Weeping would be a pale description of what would have happened.
It would be a canvas of the flipside of what I left for her and all our secrets would been out in the open.
Perhaps that's what drove me to run and what drove her to see me again in that moment?
I think it'll haunt me forever, the way she stood in the shadows, I could see she hid herself from the world but I still saw her in the dark of it. She sealed herself in, the secrets of who she is buried somewhere only I know, somewhere only we know?
This is paradoxical, I know but I wish I saw her eyes again and I'm glad I didn't.
I didn't see the grief they held, I wanted to be there to guide her through it but I was the cause, I'm glad I didn't see them because I'll never be able to forget it, I'm already a deeply unhappy person and sadness sinks it's teeth on to me deep all my life, I could never remove what I could seen then.
I just miss her eyes, I just hoped to see them one last time, the light of her founding fires shining bright in them, I see with more than just my eyes, she knows that. I wanted to feel their warmth again so I wish I saw them.
Grief is just the uneven, cruel and malicious tapestry of a homesickness, it longs to be somewhere else to be in its true form but it cannot be.
So it burns, cuts and cleaves through you because it knows nothing else in a foreign land.
It'll wean and fade eventually to be buried within, even grief can grow tired but I have to go through it completely otherwise I'll become something else entirely and someone she won't recognise.
Hope is the only way, there is no other. The power of faith in a light unseen has to be strong because it cannot be anything else. I must hope it to be or I'll lose myself in the dark, never to be found again.
I want to be found again, someone knows how to and I hope she comes, I hope.
