“The times they are a changing”
Four years go by then with a sudden change, your whole world comes crashing down and you’re left helpless like a wounded soldier in the middle of a deserted minefield. Wondering what you did wrong, or what you could have done to try and prevent it from happening, if you had another chance. But you didn’t, and never will. That one weekend changed everything. Makes you wonder what if he went the weekend before, or after, would you be sitting here reading this with such intensity or would you be out replicating a(ny) weekend from the past your years? Something we will never know.
That mutual friend draws you back together but can’t quite complete the sketch. The pen of tragedy was working hard while you’re trying to re-write your own happiness. He extends the arm for you to grab on to, but your grip isn’t water tight because someone else is in the picture. And he can’t decide who wants to stay. Decisions, decisions. He has made his bed, now he can lie in it and face the consequences of poor choices. Like a fish out of water, flip, flop, flip flop. Back and forth, doesn’t know what he’s doing. He fed you spoonfuls of bullshit and you did your job at consuming it.
Just when you thought that door was slammed shut permanently, and you’re near the top of conquering
When you’re staring each other in the face, it’s like nothing ever happened. Like a calm before a storm, except no storm was to be expected. Then, throw a few familiar faces in that mixture you call life and you’re suddenly just another face in the crowd not worth knowing.
Building a foundation for years to come only to never live it out together. How ironic. I guess that’s life though, out of your hands, and, uncontrollable.
Open the windows and smell the fresh air; this fire was out long ago.
Let bygones be bygones; because he hasn’t.
“So put your foot to the floor darling and don’t look back”
No comments:
Post a Comment