Hello, hey.
What'cha thinking about?
Why--I'm thinking about you.
I thought it was obvious, so obvious I asked.
What'cha dreaming about?
When you're awake?
Why--I dream about the what could have beens.
If it had been us.
Goodbye, see ya.
Soon--I hope.
But I think we can both agree
You weren't born to stay here.
Oh how does my mentality fare?
Fair, so very fair I say.
Much to the discouragement of my
once fairest of mental welfare.
I really haven't a clue, an idea or even a notion!
Of where, who and how to consider
This so dubbed "feeling" of a thing.
This that was so unexpectedly fallen into my
poor, frigid, pair of hands
whom, too, did not know whether to
Grasp with what instinct it would have,
and yearn to hold dearly to my heart.
Or perhaps... let it quietly slip through
the fingers as the captain of the mind so commands.
Because! That "feeling" of a thing.
This "feeling". Is not exclusively mine.
It is shared--this so called "feeling" of a thing.
And what is shared I cannot take from you.
You, whom possesses the very same state of affairs.
So it seems in the way this concludes is with
the very slight slackening of my once hopeful fists.
And so, interpret this how you will, but...
Winter has never felt as cold as this.
Let me close my eyes
Breathe in.
Let me close my eyes
and breathe out.
I just want to close my eyes
so you don't feel as far away as you seem.
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