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Pr'omaSphere

Pr'omaSphere

I love writing that lingers long after the last word, that turns emotions into echoes on the page, where vulnerability finds its voice.

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A desirable Dream?

I loved you, I know I did.
Though the memory feels distant, I know I felt it once before.
I know I had room for you once.

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But it’s not you who brings it out anymore…
the brighter side of me, the smile and laughter are distant.
The memory faded,
only by chance can i recall it now, standing in a new world.
where we were and what we once were forgotten,
changes must have occurred.

Even i wrote love letters once upon a time, how i must have felt.
What happened to that special kind of love?
Now i feel half empty…
…bricks and stones, yet i’m not broken.
I don’t want you to break.
I know you meant everything to me once upon a time.
Can i pretend and not fall into the deep end…
might i try to help you heal?
For i don’t want this to break you, it might break my past
who once loved you.
She would not want you to find out you’ve lost it all.
You meant something to the girl i once was.
How do i say goodbye when it seems you’ve been with me my whole life?

I should break too?
How do I break the unbroken?
How do I say the unsaid words,
Someone pull me out.
Will I get to the point… where I’d say it’s too late?
How do I hold back the bland reactions, the numbness to it all?
Someone pull me out.
I said I love you once.
I felt privileged to be within your touch once upon a time.
I felt I could be with for a hundred years before.
Your love once was my desirable dream.
Time without you felt like a million years once upon a time
I’d once surrendered everything to be yours, what a time.
It makes me wonder who I was then and who I am now.
What personality have i become?

Can I find peace with myself ?
All the things I did so I can call you mine, yet here I am,
hoping you’d take the hint and walk away,
so i don’t have to pull the trigger .

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Pr'omaSphere
Pr'omaSphere

Written by Pr'omaSphere

I love writing that lingers long after the last word, that turns emotions into echoes on the page, where vulnerability finds its voice.