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A 11:36 p.m. 2005-11-27 Myriad. Sit down to write, and the words fade into the back of your mind leaving you with the sound resonating in your headphones and old memories, like photographs that were never meant to be taken. And I've realized that the questions are tentative and fearful; to ask a question of any significance you must extend an invitation to rejection. But me, no not me i don't have to vocalize quiet words to see you, or at least catch a glimpse, and its so beautiful. Silly little boy sees yours souls' laid out in the motions of your fingers and the fragility of every expression. And I've realized, there's never an inopportune time to tell somebody you care. So when you do, tell them because the depths of all of that will be something, even if it isn't enough. -- Your fragrance replaced by the immaculate void of falling snow. A whisper on my cheeks, in the wind, hollowed by this frigid air. The flowers are wilting and petals fall to earth in serene silence, and this world has never seemed to stop like this before. Take a snapshot and upon developing the film the world will stand still while the snow collapses. In the quiet moments when it rings in your ears you could be like that. Just think on it Realization of the repetition and foolishness of words; failure to represent or depict and this is all just useless tonight back & forth |