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Array ( [sid] => 146458 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => Twenty-Two [time] => 2008-11-23 18:12:19 [hometext] => Story of one that went away. [bodytext] => She called me in from the cold, said it’s too chilly to go on and take that evening walk
I sink six miles deep into the chair not being able to help but think she’s always all talk
Sitting in that house I feel more empty and alone with every single passing moment
I can’t help but wonder if I was behind pen and pad that this time would be better spent
I could scribble this and that about the tone her hair is giving me and the lines upon her face
I could then metaphor this house to a prison and develop a Scofield-esque escape from this place
Suddenly a spilt second clears my thoughts, she looks up with a smile and I’m all she sees
Forget this prison—I need something to rhyme Garden of Eden with something to match this heaven please
This morning she called to say she wanted out, but that I shouldn’t take this all the wrong way
I pondered the statement not being able to wonder if she thought I would cut my wrists, or write this all away
I have to write in order to move on, but I can’t get this out because these pages are all too wet
She said she came into us thinking it was that forever kind of forever because I was such a safe bet
Tonight every candle has been lit by a single match to guide my heart along this perilous journey
I need the light to prove to myself I survived and she didn’t kill all of what was left of me
She explains that she’s already twenty-two, and that the world is all too quickly closing in
I haven’t yet found the proper words to show her that every part of life isn’t a game you have to win
This month she decided to call me on the telephone, but I hardly had the courage to even speak
I buried those memories in the coffin with my heart and now the sound of her voice makes me weak
But she called to say she missed the way I used to make her pillow smell after a hug and a kiss
For once I found the words I wanted in the opportune moment and said, “I told you that you would miss this.” [comments] => 1 [counter] => 165 [topic] => 22 [informant] => Faithfully_a_Wallflower [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => LostLove )
Twenty-Two

Contributed by Faithfully_a_Wallflower on Sunday, 23rd November 2008 @ 06:12:19 PM in AEST
Topic: LostLove



She called me in from the cold, said it’s too chilly to go on and take that evening walk
I sink six miles deep into the chair not being able to help but think she’s always all talk
Sitting in that house I feel more empty and alone with every single passing moment
I can’t help but wonder if I was behind pen and pad that this time would be better spent
I could scribble this and that about the tone her hair is giving me and the lines upon her face
I could then metaphor this house to a prison and develop a Scofield-esque escape from this place
Suddenly a spilt second clears my thoughts, she looks up with a smile and I’m all she sees
Forget this prison—I need something to rhyme Garden of Eden with something to match this heaven please
This morning she called to say she wanted out, but that I shouldn’t take this all the wrong way
I pondered the statement not being able to wonder if she thought I would cut my wrists, or write this all away
I have to write in order to move on, but I can’t get this out because these pages are all too wet
She said she came into us thinking it was that forever kind of forever because I was such a safe bet
Tonight every candle has been lit by a single match to guide my heart along this perilous journey
I need the light to prove to myself I survived and she didn’t kill all of what was left of me
She explains that she’s already twenty-two, and that the world is all too quickly closing in
I haven’t yet found the proper words to show her that every part of life isn’t a game you have to win
This month she decided to call me on the telephone, but I hardly had the courage to even speak
I buried those memories in the coffin with my heart and now the sound of her voice makes me weak
But she called to say she missed the way I used to make her pillow smell after a hug and a kiss
For once I found the words I wanted in the opportune moment and said, “I told you that you would miss this.”




Copyright © Faithfully_a_Wallflower ... [ 2008-11-23 18:12:19]
(Date/Time posted on site)





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Re: Twenty-Two (User Rating: 1 )
by TheLostPuppet on Tuesday, 25th November 2008 @ 04:10:19 PM AEST
(User Info | Send a Message)
First poem I've read from you, and its great.
Hope to see more.
Tlp




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