PRESTON :
Whence the train is about to depart you realize the value of thy existence of your other half. You wish you had more time to spend. Even the good moments ain't just enough. You wish there was no train. No terminal. Just a highway of streets laced with lights for the two of you to walk along holding hands. You wish that there's more to life that you could've done. To make up for the moments you weren't around. You curse yourself for ever being preoccupied. For ever not being there to know. To quench their thirst. To talk. To confront. To provide solution. What did you do to show love?
Time beacons as distance elongates. You thought you were indestructible yet you became addicted. You now watch as your drug sail through the ocean tides. Waves by waves slowly drifting. You just lost her when you just had her. Maybe you could've done things different. Refrain entirely from it. Or be mature and act the adult, not a whining little boy. The promise of tomorrow seem too elusive from your grip. You don't know what to feel.
You remember the conversations. The laughter. The rush. The touch. The look in your eyes when nothing made sense but you did. You wanna turn back time, but this is fate. If time could stand still, you'll still let her know that you love her.
You remember those little times she told you it hurt to miss you. You didn't quite understand. But now you do. It hurts to watch the train leave whence there's nothing you can do. A phone call doesn't help. Texts doesn't do much. For you've been here before, you know how it goes. So you sob on your bed, figuring what text to send. Your friends asks you what's wrong. "A fly has peed in my eyes", you say. There's a train about to depart with your other half, it tores you a part.
A thing about passenger's is that, whence you alight, you are forgotten. Right now there's a train departing. You are obliged to be on it. You sit staring outside the window. Bidding goodbye as my figure diminishes into thin air. I on the outside looking in, been trying to race. The train races fast.
I hope that time race faster than memories to ever forget about me. For one day, we'll be whole again.
©Hurt_Surgeon
beblogpreston.blogspot.com
Whence the train is about to depart you realize the value of thy existence of your other half. You wish you had more time to spend. Even the good moments ain't just enough. You wish there was no train. No terminal. Just a highway of streets laced with lights for the two of you to walk along holding hands. You wish that there's more to life that you could've done. To make up for the moments you weren't around. You curse yourself for ever being preoccupied. For ever not being there to know. To quench their thirst. To talk. To confront. To provide solution. What did you do to show love?
Time beacons as distance elongates. You thought you were indestructible yet you became addicted. You now watch as your drug sail through the ocean tides. Waves by waves slowly drifting. You just lost her when you just had her. Maybe you could've done things different. Refrain entirely from it. Or be mature and act the adult, not a whining little boy. The promise of tomorrow seem too elusive from your grip. You don't know what to feel.
You remember the conversations. The laughter. The rush. The touch. The look in your eyes when nothing made sense but you did. You wanna turn back time, but this is fate. If time could stand still, you'll still let her know that you love her.
You remember those little times she told you it hurt to miss you. You didn't quite understand. But now you do. It hurts to watch the train leave whence there's nothing you can do. A phone call doesn't help. Texts doesn't do much. For you've been here before, you know how it goes. So you sob on your bed, figuring what text to send. Your friends asks you what's wrong. "A fly has peed in my eyes", you say. There's a train about to depart with your other half, it tores you a part.
A thing about passenger's is that, whence you alight, you are forgotten. Right now there's a train departing. You are obliged to be on it. You sit staring outside the window. Bidding goodbye as my figure diminishes into thin air. I on the outside looking in, been trying to race. The train races fast.
I hope that time race faster than memories to ever forget about me. For one day, we'll be whole again.
©Hurt_Surgeon
beblogpreston.blogspot.com
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