The scars made by cold unfeeling objects fade.
They heal and they dissolve.
The scars that lay deeper underneath the skin rarely heal.
But they're made by the same unfeeling things.
Repitition and soft sounds keep me from my desired thoughts.
The silent stillness of the early hours.
My thoughts race a thousand times over.
How can I not know every detail about you?
Here as I stare and breathe.
When all seems to finally collapse.
Hearing nothing but the ticks and groans of this old house.
My eyes close and I'm submerged in you.
My dreams are my salvation.
I no longer have to think of anything troubling.
I fly over everything that disturbes and annoyes.
And you fly with me, always with me.
Pretty girl... always fly with me.
Escape our fears and forget the people who would hold us back.
Bend and break the limits we put on ourselves.
Distance isn't anything to us, we're forever.
© 2006 DarkNephilim
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Printed from www.DarkPoetry.com/dp/10070/75916 on Saturday November 22nd, 2008 02:21 PM
Certain elements © 1996-2008 Matthew Steven (matts.org)
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