Can I play a memory
Like a record skipping beat;
Just a memory of a boy I loved
And have that thought repeat,
When he'd hold me tight,
How he'd say I-love-you's
In the middle of the night
And meant them as I still do.
How we'd walk in the setting sun
And sit for hours without it feeling long;
Or when he used to speak to me
And I felt the world sitting in my palm.
I hear the echo of that fleeting love,
Slipping further from my heart each day,
The record needle skips another beat
As sorrow begins to play.
Thought I'd try something different here by writing from the perspective of the opposite ***. I'm not sure how it turned out; it feels a bit awkward to me, but that might just be my subconscious telling me I'm not female. I expect that will change as I experiment more with this perspective.
I found it to be an interesting experience, trying to imagine how women feel though. Definitely try it if you haven't already.
