Monday, August 9, 2010

Ode to my discontent.


Every time I think about you, I think I can feel my heartbeat in my throat. My hands grow cold, I feel sick, like I need to shake it off before I catch a cold from all the ice in my soul.

Do you ever think of me this way? I would give every last ounce of my sanity to know how you thought of me.

You make me want to take a cold shower. You make me feel numb, and like I can feel everything.

I want to punch you in your face and take you in my arms.

Looking at you makes me want to smile sweetly and cry, and say, "It's okay. Everything is okay. Nothing is wrong, I've been waiting for you."

I feel nothing and everything. I am dormant and electric. I am happy and not.

You are my nothing and my everything.

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