i can finally say that if you came back professing your love i wouldn’t say **** it you would have to change and then grow some more then learn how to treat a woman and then, maybe you could join me for coffee and we can begin our sequel
A Procrustean woman's tale in an orbit does tell that this snitch here wasn't Montgomery whether sound must hitch with Pythagoras that seldom erupt in despair now dire hands with guilty chest yet volcanoes bleed in the air
Still stuck behind the glass wall There’s no use in getting out No use in communicating The people on the other side have given up, too I slump down to the floor in a state of defeat Resting my head on my knees Suddenly I feel a knocking on the glass Slowly I turned my head A smile grew on my face Someone like me! Someone that understands! I could tell in his eyes He was behind a glass wall, too “Do you feel my heart saying hi?” A bond formed From nothing else But our life behind those glass walls I reached through the glass And took his hand I’m no longer alone
I attempted a continuation (ooooooh) of a poem I wrote called Glass around a month ago
the best conclusion I can give without really giving away the intended meaning of the metaphor is that it’s really good to find someone that can relate to you :’)
Silence and space. We have now mastered the trick. And we are living it. No cues. No dramatic transitions or face-slapping moment. Dead air is not even awkward. The parlor games are busted. It just happened one Tuesday morning inside Starbucks after you ordered your iced Americano and my vanilla frappuccino, no whipped cream,
Maybe there's a sequel to this story, but for now, we should roll the credits.