I want to feel a rush.
I want to feel my heart lift like a bird passing through city bridges,
the wide open air as colorful as a newborn's sky-painted eyes.
I feel so free, that I don't need anyone else.
I don't need anyone,
I don't need.
Do you hear it?
His voice, those eyes...
The sound of my
Corresponding up to my thoughts as I reach for the
Backspace, backspace, backspace...
I don't long for the days when I'll be held in someone's arms,
I regret the days I could have held your hand.
I see those days as a blot on my history, a little terror.
I know most people suggest that one move on from such things as past images.
But I can't discount them as if they never happened.
If they never happened, I would be emptier than I am now.
Or would I?
His voice, those eyes, his leathery white skin...