viernes, 15 de octubre de 2010
Truly great people were once called weird so that today, you aren't called anything.
No one knows where the words come from and if someone tells you that they do, they're lying.
I could've sworn I was telling the truth when I told you I didn't miss you.
You forget that, in the dark, we must move closer together in order to see each other. You were never alone.
You took all my words when all I wanted to do was say them.
Maybe we're notes, plucked from strings we cannot see. Maybe we're all echoes of each other. Maybe that sound is all you are.
You are the distance between the way things are and the way I want them to be.
All the space without you, is empty.
Of course it's complicated. If it wasn't, I probably wouldn't be interested in you.
Dreaming isn't hard. Dreaming while you walk, work and wonder, is another matter entirely.
To you, it might just be the chemicals inside us changing. All I know is our bodies reward us for being with each other.
What you gave me was a reason. Not an excuse.
I would never hurt you. Not even to kiss it better.
If you blur your eyes, the streetlights become hundreds of ghosts going home.
You were a dream. Then a reality. Now a memory.
Don't give the crowd what they want. If they knew what they wanted, they'd be on stage. Not you.
And if I blink my eyes enough, maybe I will wake up and you will still be there sleeping next to me.
By the time you read this, I'll be fine.