Sequel to Untitled

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Sequel to Untitled

footsteps approaching

images racing through my mind

confusion sets in

heart pounding fiercely

too much to think about i cant handle it

she just touched my shoulder

i cant think of what to say

could someone stop the world i need to get off

 

she just walked by

 

am i stupid?

i shout her name and she looks back at me

piercing my soul with that gaze...

 

effortlessly

 

 

 

this really cant be, im sure i've only seen this...or even read about it in fairy tales

or those stupid played out hollywood movies that everyone says 'oh you dont have a soul if you did'nt cry at this part or that part' and blah blah blah

 

but still..i cant help but think this has all happened before

kind of like last night when we were on top of that building looking at the city below, staring at the stars...who could have possible planed that to go so perfect

besides i dont deserve this, i havent done anything worthy of notiriety

who am i that she would choose me?

seriously..im nothing special

i have no clue what she sees in me

 

and quite frankly

 

i dont care

 

 

so what ever may happen i hope she doesnt loose sight of what she first saw in me

 

cause i know i'll miss my knees shaking

my heart pounding

that passion that we share

 

 

just  to think

she's chosen me...

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If I feel physically as if the top of my head were taken off, I know that is poetry.

Emily Dickinson (1830-1886) American poet.

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