Leera
05-08-2010, 09:15 PM
If I died, would you notice? If I cried, would you hold me?
If I fell, would you pick me up?
I feel like autumn leaves on the ground, blown in heaps, raked away, burned to cinder.
The flurry of emotions shrouds me; the lack of your passion conceals me.
The emptiness of my heart, created by you, is filled with the shadow of my own doubt.
Like a layer of thin smoke, the thread that I hold onto threatens to burst. The thread that is my life, the thread that gave me joy; the thread that is you.
The fire still burns brightly, but the darkness of my sorrow envelops it, refusing it to flourish, denies it the right to burn freely. The fire concealed, hidden so well you couldn't see, yet dimly it burns, screaming for the oxygen that is you, fighting the shadow that is my fear.
The fear of fire to burst, the fear of it to douse.
Neither with or without can I survive, not if the flames does not burn within you.
The similar feeling I felt when I looked in your eyes, the familiarity of the fire I saw burn in your eyes, the knowledge that within my soul, I held its twin.
Like two despising brothers, hatred drew us apart, our fires diminishing, until I could no longer see yours.
Thought mine still burns, hate is its fuel, rage its will and mind, defiance its heart.
Yet burning with shadow, light still remains, in the core of my being, wishing yours would bloom again, so the skies would fall to bring us together.
I ride with destiny, yet I no longer hold the reins. I’m forced down this path, one without you, my destiny and my demise walking hand in hand, tearing me between them, and pulling my strings, leaving me helpless to all, but the wish of your touch.
If I fell, would you pick me up?
I feel like autumn leaves on the ground, blown in heaps, raked away, burned to cinder.
The flurry of emotions shrouds me; the lack of your passion conceals me.
The emptiness of my heart, created by you, is filled with the shadow of my own doubt.
Like a layer of thin smoke, the thread that I hold onto threatens to burst. The thread that is my life, the thread that gave me joy; the thread that is you.
The fire still burns brightly, but the darkness of my sorrow envelops it, refusing it to flourish, denies it the right to burn freely. The fire concealed, hidden so well you couldn't see, yet dimly it burns, screaming for the oxygen that is you, fighting the shadow that is my fear.
The fear of fire to burst, the fear of it to douse.
Neither with or without can I survive, not if the flames does not burn within you.
The similar feeling I felt when I looked in your eyes, the familiarity of the fire I saw burn in your eyes, the knowledge that within my soul, I held its twin.
Like two despising brothers, hatred drew us apart, our fires diminishing, until I could no longer see yours.
Thought mine still burns, hate is its fuel, rage its will and mind, defiance its heart.
Yet burning with shadow, light still remains, in the core of my being, wishing yours would bloom again, so the skies would fall to bring us together.
I ride with destiny, yet I no longer hold the reins. I’m forced down this path, one without you, my destiny and my demise walking hand in hand, tearing me between them, and pulling my strings, leaving me helpless to all, but the wish of your touch.