I cannot look at him and
Not feel like crying.
Where once was a fire, raging
Has been replaced with a blank stare, glazed looks...
I cannot speak.
Not for harshness, not because I like the silence
But for the memories.
They race through my head, they choke me
Before words can spill out my mouth.
Hands, however restless
Cannot make up for lost words
Or lost time.
that really touched me.
you're a wonderful writer.
_opalsnowflake_
response to your note:
Kristen took the shots. Probably the first and last time she will ever see me in such compromising positions. Woo.
But now as I come back to leave this note, perhaps it's an old feeling, seeing as the title is "old."
:-)
Either way, your words struck me deeply.