echos from the past
sometimes, at night when i should be sleeping. my mind wonders back to you.
i wish and pray and lie to myself.
telling me that i am no longer in need of you. that you were nothing but a bump in the road and i am in a better place now that you are gone.
but i know deep down, when my day goes silent, that this is not true.
there are moments, when i think i see you.
at the store and on tv, glimers of you that seem so real that it takes me hours to feel better again.
upon seeing these yous that are not you,
my heart stops, my breath too. i can think of nothing but the fact that you are here with me once again.
that maybe you came looking for me.
then the face changes and becomes something nothing like you.
sometimes, at night i wake and expect to find you next to me.
a heat signature that reminds me that your there.
and sometimes, i think you are still here. i lay very still and wait to hear that little moan you used to make in your sleep, an echo of plesant dreams.
i wait for far too long then reluctantly geet out of bed and shuffle off to the bathroom.
and in a moment of pure and un adulterated hope,
through the crack in the door, i follow that path of light along the floor and up onto the bed.
i expect it to spill across your face.
but i never have seen you after that night. and i can't bare to go back to that bed and instead,
leave the light on and travle to the couch.
and sometimes at night, i walk out onto the front lawn and just scream at the moon.
she never replies.
i demand she give me a reason as to why she took you away from me.
but she never anwseres.
i beg her to bring you back to me, make promises of being different.
yet she remains silent.
i try to hate her and you, but you two are the only ones i ever loved. and i hope if i prove my worth, you will come back to me.
maybe you will see me in a differnt light, something better than i was before.
and i could tell you i loved you.
This is an original piece and as such no part, in part or whole may be used without my, Chelsea Johnson, written permission. Thank you.
i wish and pray and lie to myself.
telling me that i am no longer in need of you. that you were nothing but a bump in the road and i am in a better place now that you are gone.
but i know deep down, when my day goes silent, that this is not true.
there are moments, when i think i see you.
at the store and on tv, glimers of you that seem so real that it takes me hours to feel better again.
upon seeing these yous that are not you,
my heart stops, my breath too. i can think of nothing but the fact that you are here with me once again.
that maybe you came looking for me.
then the face changes and becomes something nothing like you.
sometimes, at night i wake and expect to find you next to me.
a heat signature that reminds me that your there.
and sometimes, i think you are still here. i lay very still and wait to hear that little moan you used to make in your sleep, an echo of plesant dreams.
i wait for far too long then reluctantly geet out of bed and shuffle off to the bathroom.
and in a moment of pure and un adulterated hope,
through the crack in the door, i follow that path of light along the floor and up onto the bed.
i expect it to spill across your face.
but i never have seen you after that night. and i can't bare to go back to that bed and instead,
leave the light on and travle to the couch.
and sometimes at night, i walk out onto the front lawn and just scream at the moon.
she never replies.
i demand she give me a reason as to why she took you away from me.
but she never anwseres.
i beg her to bring you back to me, make promises of being different.
yet she remains silent.
i try to hate her and you, but you two are the only ones i ever loved. and i hope if i prove my worth, you will come back to me.
maybe you will see me in a differnt light, something better than i was before.
and i could tell you i loved you.
This is an original piece and as such no part, in part or whole may be used without my, Chelsea Johnson, written permission. Thank you.
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