It’s a man touching your body
But never touching your soul
It’s being afraid of intimacy
Because you are so used to its company
It’s saving the world
But no one saving you
It’s the gift they despise you for
It’s the silence that comes after their applause
It’s sadness masquerading as joy
It's realising your arms are too short to hug away your pain
It’s not the cold side of the bed
It’s the cold
It’s not the phone that never rings
It’s the silence
...
It’s deafening.
Wednesday, 24 March 2010
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1 comments:
indigo this amazingness of yours is scary.
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