I'm the drop in temperature,
the air displacement of a broken raincloud.
I am the thunder in the distance.
You try to ignore it.
Like the feeling in your stomach right before it growls, and lunch isn't for 2 hours.
I'm the rain you don't want to ruin your ipod, but the feeling of water on the face would be refreshing.
The kind that soaks you hopelessly, and you know everything is ruined,
but the freedom is almost overwhelming.
"I've got a fresh pack of cigarettes at the house, and it feels good anyway."
I'm the dream that isn't real unless you let go and fall into blessed coma forever.
I'm the inside of Pandora's box.
A capacitor in the circuit board of the Sick Sad System.
So Stuck.
Surrendered.
How much courage would it take to take my hand?
Well, you know.
You are the chill when the wind blows just right
Muscles tense.
Hairs on end.
If your taser fingertips stop my heart
I think I may fall into you.
You are the sky.
You are the same side of the mirror. |
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