Dienstag, 10. Januar 2017
Beklæger.
quadrotriticale, 05:47h
A theory starts forming
Through the numbing mourning
That fact that something's missing
Crawls through the reminiscing
Something that I forgot
Somewhere where I am not
A vital organ of some kind
One I'll never ever find
My feet in the tide?
My lungs in the wind?
My nose in the sea?
My eyes in the sand?
It can't be my heart
For I feel it start
Whenever I think of you.
~Liv
June 2016
Through the numbing mourning
That fact that something's missing
Crawls through the reminiscing
Something that I forgot
Somewhere where I am not
A vital organ of some kind
One I'll never ever find
My feet in the tide?
My lungs in the wind?
My nose in the sea?
My eyes in the sand?
It can't be my heart
For I feel it start
Whenever I think of you.
~Liv
June 2016
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