Tuesday, February 11, 2003 :::
I forgot when i wrote this. I know it was about two year or something. The point is that I just found it and it's not terrible so I'll share it with you. Maybe it'll help. Maybe it won't.
Black Magic Woman. (Santana)
The great depression
Unjust and ill fitting I seek to repent the past that seems to last through every single task. Tried and tested I remain vested in my old fashioned ways that seem to barley get me through my normally lonely days. Lonely… pain is multiplied by the realization of a solo step… steps towards the reclamation of the tears I’ve wept. Steps to remember the thoughts that were pondered as I layed awake for the sake of self-pity. Constantly I try to see past the past, but how can I when all I really want ismy… past. Asimplesmell. A simple smile… a simple kiss. Reminisce. Promise.
Lets talk.
What happened to the night you said that forever was mine? Twisted emotions are traded so readily that sometimes it’s hard to remember what was said. And what was said isn’t always what was implied. What was implied wasn’t always what was meant… and so the truth was bent. And even with a million hours spent we couldn’t prevent the deteration of our love. So came separation. Talented negotiation of postnuptial conferntation couldn’t rebuild our trust so it seemed certain that our forever was no longer a must. Days into weeks… weeks into months… and now into years… so why after so long are there still tears?
Tell me why.
Silent courage isn’t worth what it used to be when I only see what I choose to see. The awkward exterior of my fake smile will only last a while. Keep staring and the smile cracks for lack of feelings to back it up. Still I’ll try not to give up. I’ll show you what I want when I want… never to flaunt. What it is exactly do I have to show that would let you know that it’s hard to let go. Everything that I had to give was given and now I sit alone unforgiven.
The great depression.
Sometimes I walk through the shallow halls of my memory and try to remember what you meant to me. Seems funny now but back then I never really knew what your love could actually do. The way you used to look into my eyes to see right to my heart. The way you used to whisper that we would never be apart. Every step was spoken for. Every road led to the next open door. Everything was great until we went our separate paths… so what in the world would last? If not love then what? Sorrowful tears are shed with each one burning with the yearning of agreat depression. Each tear wanting to be sad. Each tear wanting to fulfill its destiny as a messenger of sorrow. But for my tears there is no tomorrow. They dry and turn into saltand Ifell as if it’s entirely my fault. Is it?
… So it seems fit that here I sit without a bit of wit. Hopefully a day will come when I can see whatis truly right for me.
::: posted by boots at 9:00 AM
