I can’t sleep, everything I ever knew is a lie without you.
I cant breathe when my heart is broke in two, there’s no beat without you.
You are not gone, but you are not here.
At least that’s the way it seems.
Missing you isn’t the hardest part.
Knowing that I once had you is.
I miss you a little,
I guess you could say, a little too much, a little too often, and a little more each day.
Until I know this sure uncertainty, I'll entertain the offered fallacy.
Whereabouts of a Wanderer's Soul
Lifestyle - Cooking tips - Travelling in Europe- Emotional support - Integrating with locals -Easy Recipes-Gardening
Musings of a first-time mommy
Freedom from humanity
Never wait for the breakthrough time,coz time will be never perfect. Begin it with what you have & where you are and the better things awaits you in the process.Make impossible->possible
Natalia's space
From soul to soul
I was doing ok – trying hard not to miss the person I love at Christmas and then I was driving to work this morning. They played “Every Year, Every Christmas”, by Luther Vandross. OMG – The tears welled up in my eyes and I had to myself to breathe in and out to stop the surge of heartfelt pain of loss. It is tough for the lonely.
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Yes, dear, it is tough. However, we have to be strong. And I hope that this time will also pass. Soon…
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Thank you
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The Innocent #1
There, at the rock, the innocent stands waiting
for what she’s not sure, but she knows the
man she once dreamed of could not be out
fishing until two in the morning, nor could her
busy parents be lured away from the fields by
the promise of money, nor her dreams fulfilled
in the rice paddy, nor will some Batman, half
hero, half millionaire show up, nor will wearing
a yellow, pleated mini-skirt and pumps attract
the type of guy she wants to spend the rest of her
life with. She doesn’t see a salamander popping
its head up above a fallen leaf. She hears the owl
call his hunting call instead. Fog dampens night.
She can’t explain why she knows this is the place
she is meant to wait. She can’t relax or even sit
without the pain of growth spurts ruining her
yearning. No hikers present themselves, no slow
moving conversations, so she marches back down
to her lonely room, sits reading by a new lamp,
listens to her parents snoring, fully aware of time.
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