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Remnants of a summers day ending. Shapes rushing home, merging, blending. I'm feeling beat. Warm coffee outside. Position a chair to rest my feet. Stealing glances. Night advances. People watching.
She tore up the pictures, memorising each photo before destroyingl its existence. As if she could erase his memory.
She sits alone, her thoughts for company. Looking out into the garden. They've all grown up and left home now, once where laughter echoed now only a clock on the mantel sits patiently tick tick tick.
Sunshine in the morning, A smile upon your face, Love as day is dawning, Your dress, lined in lace.
There once used to be a hand to hold,. And arms to warm me when cold,. I used to look into sea green eyes,. And know they never told me lies,. There was a comfort in your bed,.
I played myself down a blind alley Dreamed of a life in a valley From the shadows and rubbish bins Came a flickering light shining I walked hesitantly forwards Glimpsed at a sign with words Said,...
One of my little eccentricities is to tend a part of our village churchyard.
I once lost a friend, a very dear friend, We'd hang out together and laugh loudly no end, We'd play cards and we'd chatter About things of no matter, Go walking together through fields and up...
16th October 2006 06:34am He told me my dreams were filled with darkness.
Meaning: In a state of confusion and disorder. Origin: This is an extension of the nautical phrase 'at sea' and dates from the days of sail when accurate navigational aids weren't available.
I was walking home, on a summers night. I saw a pretty girl, under an old street light. So I called your name. But it was'nt you. And the fading sun, it turned to blue. I've been wondering.
I awake to the sun and warmth of the day. It is May now and summer smiles at me from the horizon. People fly by thoughts and cares crossing through the air some lingering smiles, some distant stares.
First love or first lust It matters not, She is still resigned to imagery not forgot. To feast upon and linger when your loins are old. To fumble in the lonely night to chase away the cold.
I don't know what to do with my life anymore. What to think. What to feel. I only have two emotions by now, Way too happy or grippingly depressed. No in between. No colour or difference.
It seemed I had lost you for a while watched you hold a strangers hand that was mine searching for a spark in dementia's darkness Now somehow, i have you back free from pain happy and...
This pens run out of ink, But the ideas they still flow. I need to right them down, Before they escape and go. I won't remember them for long. If I can't write them, they'll go to waste.
Just look over your shoulder Can you see me. I'm watching over you I promised I would No, baby, please don't cry When destiny is calling your name Who are you to resist.
Do I ever cross your mind. We had so many great times together. Do you ever hear a song and remember me playing it.
I sit here on the swing set, Alone, The brook nearby feels like home, An old photo in my hand, I smiled, Remembering when we played in the sand, That box is gone now and our tree house is old, We...
Oh tell me when this will all go. I can't take much more of this feeling of woe. Thirteen years, right to this day, Was the last time I saw you alive that way.
He may not be here anymore, and he hasn't been here for 8 months now; but that doesn't mean I don't think about him every second of every day.
I no longer search for you in crowded spaces or hope to get a catch-up call. I no longer bring you up in conversations or wish bad things upon you. I no longer have your old t-shirts or letters.
You say things sometimes, funny, hilarious things, and it feels like there isn't enough sound in me, or in existence, to do your comments justice or give them the credit they deserve.
Without really meaning to, he gave her an angry scowl.