|
Wednesday, January 12, 2011 You, from afar.
 You and I. We're stuck in between. Aware of each others existence, yet we're not there. We're not friends, nor are we strangers. I know the music you listen to, as I once claimed them to be mine. It feels like you've unintentionally sought refuge in my soul, yet I know nothing about you. And I want to. I want to know if you feel the same sense of uncertainty when you see me. I want to know if you'd let your mind wander off to our conversations we could have shared. I want to know if you'd ever imagined what your words would sound like answering mine. Do you also feel butterflies? We hum to the same melodies, sigh at the same poetry, and allow our souls to be taken away by the same voices.But we're still not friends neither are we strangers. So are you waiting also for the day I've been waiting so patiently for? Do you wish one day these walls between us will crumble and fade into the background while we let our souls explore and embrace each other? I do. And I'd like to think you feel the same way too. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- I don't know what to feel about this post. It's somewhat true, but too overly dramatised. I think I really enjoy writing stuff. Labels: writing the unwritten, you |
First there are the ones who read it, listen to what is said and absorb it, all of it. Then they draw an impression of her in their minds, and she stays like that to them until she does not matter, just because they are simple enough to take it all in, every single piece of it. 
