When obsession takes over. When a personal catastrophe is created. When the rib'cage' of the heart is realized. When a head is pushed under the surface of the water for too long. When the extreme waves of emotions are beaten down and have gone numb. When sentences from novels are read over and over again to decipher new meanings. When she cares enough to read every blink, every frown, every smile and grimace and every emotion that passes by his face. From afar. When she cares too much.
She's on a swing. Back and forth. Back and forth. Closer now, farther away the next second. Lost and incomprehensible in the speed and wind of life. Going on walking on a tightrope. Scared to admit anything, lest she falls. Back and forth. Back and forth. He's always in sight, right in front of her. And she goes back and forth. It can't stop, lest he disappears. It can't go on, lest she looses her head. She goes back and forth. Lost, incomprehensible.
The yearning hides. It sits and waits till nightfall, whilst feeding on her soul. And as the sky darkens and we are returned home, it feeds on her tears. The yearning is insatiable. Her thoughts cannot move an inch without bumping into some piece of him. And the run through that's in her head is making her dizzier with time.
She drains it all out. In the form of tears and ink splattered on paper. That's how she breathes again every morning. That's how she fights the anchors holding her down in the deep black sea. Words are splattered in the dead of the night. And she resurfaces each morning, to drown out all over again. Again and Again.
She's on a swing. Back and forth. Back and forth. Closer now, farther away the next second. Lost and incomprehensible in the speed and wind of life. Going on walking on a tightrope. Scared to admit anything, lest she falls. Back and forth. Back and forth. He's always in sight, right in front of her. And she goes back and forth. It can't stop, lest he disappears. It can't go on, lest she looses her head. She goes back and forth. Lost, incomprehensible.
The yearning hides. It sits and waits till nightfall, whilst feeding on her soul. And as the sky darkens and we are returned home, it feeds on her tears. The yearning is insatiable. Her thoughts cannot move an inch without bumping into some piece of him. And the run through that's in her head is making her dizzier with time.
She drains it all out. In the form of tears and ink splattered on paper. That's how she breathes again every morning. That's how she fights the anchors holding her down in the deep black sea. Words are splattered in the dead of the night. And she resurfaces each morning, to drown out all over again. Again and Again.
- ThatGirl.Again
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