They may be to a mother, the day before you leave home, a lover before you grow courage to run away, or a friend, after one day they weren't there.
Last words, they are unpredicted...the only thing sure about them is the act of separation.
the preoccupation with a sense of pain.
And the afterthoughts, that loom....tossed in the air..
People try to escape to things to soothe the ache - writing, drawing, painting talking...
Is there any other pain; than true genuine love, suddenly being demolished...something out of oblivion,
who knew words could be so venomous.
all they do is leave you trapped in a moment...
i guess, as the reciprocate we can only ask to be remembered well,
while we remain, reminded of the words on your last day.
No comments:
Post a Comment