So have i finally found dreams do not exist?
Flights of fancy drive those hidden elements of life to the surface,
where then reality and logic demolish chances and moments.
His lips were just against mine,
but now he is pressed between another and paths and direction.
There is no hope left in dreams.
No love left that I can find.
And I have tried patience.
I have searched desperately still in my soul, I know I am not meant to be lonely.
Here painting these sighs and woes to myself,
lonely is an emotion I am accustomed to waking with.
I miss his soft hands touching mine,
reminding me what closeness was.
His eyes memorizing deep impressions,
the darkness shown through feeling his breath on my neck,
my body tense waiting for the exact moment he would softly grab my arms and gently pull me into his.
If I closed my eyes I have the vision catalogued,
so to return to that moment is only a mere second.
But awake I am.
This moment gone.
The feeling desolate and dry like this pit left in my stomach.
Yet no one knows we shared these moments.
Save he and I.
The secret to bare burdens of regret.
Still it was harmless, pardon the expression, fooling around.
Tell my heart that when she is on a rampage,
devouring anything close enough and making it her own.
Only to be left with nothing but this ache.
My arms wrap myself to try and embrace the impression he left on my body.
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