I feel alone; yet I am forever with her.
My mind is lost, it remains astir.
The world I see, frozen in a kind of reality,
yet it is not of that which I dream.
It has become a sad mistake,
to where my heart is no longer awake.
And as I drink... drink until I am dead,
there are no better words left unsaid
than those that have buried themselves.
Hidden beneath a wishing well,
I’ve grown, not old, but older,
to where my heart wishes to hold her.
And I fear that I must not do so,
as I’ve no idea where she will go.
I can’t let her get too close,
or else she’ll be haunted by my ghost.
The voices I hear, or have heard,
call out my name, which sounds absurd.
They ask for me to go with them.
To make this day the very end.
I haven’t listened to them yet,
because I don’t think my life is set.
I’ve got quite a lot more writing to do,
more places to see, to see with you.
And yet, in all this time, I still feel alone.
Perhaps one day I will find a home,
hopefully somewhere I know we’ll be safe.
A kind of paradise, a perfect place.
Maybe, just maybe, one day,
but until then, I’ll always feel this way.
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