whiner/winner/winter (for alex who was once so in love with angie)

these days are made of what you were and how it could have been. I see, looking at you how your hands canít find the railing, your ears canít hear the wind nor feel the sun on your face, though once, you could have climbed the stars and thrown lassoes around the sky.
These days, rare though it is, when I see you, you are bent, broken and made only of shadows of how you were. I see the way you see you in your eyes and watch you losing this war with the past.
How I long to give the past back to you, if only to see the shine in your eyes that once took over companies and took flawless photographs.
The truth is that the you of then doesnít exist anymore.
These days you carrying great invisible boulders up hillsides on your back and you havenít the strength to stand and how I wish, so dearly, that I could give it back to you.
You made lifestyles grand.


2004-10-22 | 11:36 a.m.
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