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Part 1; Love I want to climb inside your skin, Make a home in your brain, And listen. I want to know more about you than anyone, To predict what you’ll say, But to listen regardless, Because I love the way you say it. I want to understand, To feel each line on your skin, And scar on the walls of your heart, And to know the stories that made them. I want to know you so well, That sometimes we forget we’re two people, When it’s late, And we’re awake, More comfortable together Than we are in our own flesh. Let me in. Let me wear you. Let me know what it’s like to suffer your downs, And ride your ups, And I’ll show you my wounds, And expose to you my thoughts, Until we know each other Better than we know ourselves. Part 2; The Boy If I am careless, if I allow my mind to wander, I sometimes still taste the smoke from your lips. It’s the wrong place, and the wrong time, but my heart still jumps into my throat when I remember your touch. If I could pick up the phone, and tell you how I miss those stolen kisses, I would. But jeopardy terrifies me and I’d rather not dive headfirst down that whirlpool just yet. Part 3; The Reconciliation I know that we used to be so different, so full of life, so full of love. That you were once energetic, excited, and enthralled, and I, for a time, was compassionate, caring and considered. I know that we were once different people, with different stories and different hopes. We may have lost our way, become somebody we wouldn’t even have recognised as being us, if we met ourselves 5 years ago, but remember that we recognise each other now. I know your innermost thought and your deepest distaste, and I will never ask you to be anybody but who you are today. We might not be the same people we were when we were 15, but we are people who have grown together, and laughed together, and loved together, and we are people who have shared so much it would be impossible to leave this partnership whole. We have fused souls. And as much as we may reminisce and remember who we used to be, let’s just tonight remember something more important. Let us remember who we are now, and that it would be more difficult for me to tear myself from you than to tear myself in half. Part 4; The Decline Postpone. The silence at home kills me, so what’s the harm in one more smoke, anyway? I spent more time travelling miles to see you, than I would ever care to admit, battling on bikes, through sleet and snow, to spend 30 minutes over coffee. Where did that go? Now my house is not my home, because space to breathe is scarce and I am breathless just thinking of the travel to my front door. What do you do when the foundations become unglued? Nothing can rebuild something that’s not demolished, but destitute. Part 5; The End I can see our future, Clearly, For the first time, And I hate it. There are no fuzzy young faces, No unknown sticky fingers, No pattering of A strangers’ feet That somehow sound like Home. All I see are false smiles And fake conversations And the knowledge that I’ll never Know you Again.
0
Jan 2, 2014
Jan 2, 2014 at 7:52 PM UTC
You
Part 1; Love I want to climb inside your skin, Make a home in your brain, And listen. I want to know more about you than anyone, To predict what you’ll say, But to listen regardless, Because I love the way you say it. I want to understand, To feel each line on your skin, And scar on the walls of your heart, And to know the stories that made them. I want to know you so well, That sometimes we forget we’re two people, When it’s late, And we’re awake, More comfortable together Than we are in our own flesh. Let me in. Let me wear you. Let me know what it’s like to suffer your downs, And ride your ups, And I’ll show you my wounds, And expose to you my thoughts, Until we know each other Better than we know ourselves. Part 2; The Boy If I am careless, if I allow my mind to wander, I sometimes still taste the smoke from your lips. It’s the wrong place, and the wrong time, but my heart still jumps into my throat when I remember your touch. If I could pick up the phone, and tell you how I miss those stolen kisses, I would. But jeopardy terrifies me and I’d rather not dive headfirst down that whirlpool just yet. Part 3; The Reconciliation I know that we used to be so different, so full of life, so full of love. That you were once energetic, excited, and enthralled, and I, for a time, was compassionate, caring and considered. I know that we were once different people, with different stories and different hopes. We may have lost our way, become somebody we wouldn’t even have recognised as being us, if we met ourselves 5 years ago, but remember that we recognise each other now. I know your innermost thought and your deepest distaste, and I will never ask you to be anybody but who you are today. We might not be the same people we were when we were 15, but we are people who have grown together, and laughed together, and loved together, and we are people who have shared so much it would be impossible to leave this partnership whole. We have fused souls. And as much as we may reminisce and remember who we used to be, let’s just tonight remember something more important. Let us remember who we are now, and that it would be more difficult for me to tear myself from you than to tear myself in half. Part 4; The Decline Postpone. The silence at home kills me, so what’s the harm in one more smoke, anyway? I spent more time travelling miles to see you, than I would ever care to admit, battling on bikes, through sleet and snow, to spend 30 minutes over coffee. Where did that go? Now my house is not my home, because space to breathe is scarce and I am breathless just thinking of the travel to my front door. What do you do when the foundations become unglued? Nothing can rebuild something that’s not demolished, but destitute. Part 5; The End I can see our future, Clearly, For the first time, And I hate it. There are no fuzzy young faces, No unknown sticky fingers, No pattering of A strangers’ feet That somehow sound like Home. All I see are false smiles And fake conversations And the knowledge that I’ll never Know you Again.
This isn't part of my challenge.
katie-day
Written by
English
Jan 2, 2014
Jan 2, 2014 at 7:52 PM UTC
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