I go about my daily business: I read my books and I write my essays. I hold the doors and I hold conversations. I smile, I wave and I pretend I'm not aware of it's presence.
It hides in shadows and blends into the background, always lingering. It holds all my favorite memories: the smells, the sounds, the tastes and the touches. The looks and the love. It won't let me forget.
Every line, every curve, every color that makes up the most perfect image of love. I could never forget.
I can still see you, and smell you and hear your voice. I can still recall every line, every curve and every inch of you. But I cannot touch you. I cannot lay inside your loving arms nor kiss the tip of your nose. I cannot get lost inside those eyes. Thus, is the nature of my heart ache
So, I wake up and smile, and wave, and hold I the door.
It hides in shadows and blends into the background, always lingering. It holds all my favorite memories: the smells, the sounds, the tastes and the touches. The looks and the love. It won't let me forget.
Every line, every curve, every color that makes up the most perfect image of love. I could never forget.
I can still see you, and smell you and hear your voice. I can still recall every line, every curve and every inch of you. But I cannot touch you. I cannot lay inside your loving arms nor kiss the tip of your nose. I cannot get lost inside those eyes. Thus, is the nature of my heart ache
So, I wake up and smile, and wave, and hold I the door.
