Infinitesimal
Missing you is like staring at the sun set on a chilly winter night with an empty coffee cup and a tattered blanket.
If I could pen down and sing a song for you, would you be there to listen to it? Or would the piano seep out it's haunting notes which echo off the memories of our past?
If I could roam the corners of your mind, would you see me as the desolate princess who's pulled down by the torrents of the ocean while she smiles serenely at you, or would I be running away in a mischievious manner and daring you to catch up with me, while you let go?
Missing you is like walking down a seashore and being lulled by the gentle crash of the waves, until the tide rises.
If I could paint a picture of you with my eyes closed, would you reach out to help me with the strokes while I paint your hair, or would you turn away and leave, with the painting's soulless eyes staring back at me?
If I could reach out to you and be next to you, would you entwine our fingers together while caressing my palm, or would you turn me to stone with your hard set glare?
Missing you is knowing that even if I love you with every infinitesimal bit of myself, it's never going to be enough to make you stay.
If I could pen down and sing a song for you, would you be there to listen to it? Or would the piano seep out it's haunting notes which echo off the memories of our past?
If I could roam the corners of your mind, would you see me as the desolate princess who's pulled down by the torrents of the ocean while she smiles serenely at you, or would I be running away in a mischievious manner and daring you to catch up with me, while you let go?
Missing you is like walking down a seashore and being lulled by the gentle crash of the waves, until the tide rises.
If I could paint a picture of you with my eyes closed, would you reach out to help me with the strokes while I paint your hair, or would you turn away and leave, with the painting's soulless eyes staring back at me?
If I could reach out to you and be next to you, would you entwine our fingers together while caressing my palm, or would you turn me to stone with your hard set glare?
Missing you is knowing that even if I love you with every infinitesimal bit of myself, it's never going to be enough to make you stay.
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