See a penny, pick it up.
Sometimes, and less than more, I find myself remembering you. Not you in a way that most people would... but in a different way. An intimate way, not intimate as in sexual either, intimate as in personal.
Personal, now why didn't I just use that word in the first place.
Erase go back intimate personal.
I remember the feelings that came about when we talked about our days and lives.
I remember hands clapping, glances, t.v's, music, sayings...everything that goes along with all of that. The smell of rooms and familiar places. I remember trying new things and the faces we made if we didn't like them. I remember outfits and things we would consider lucky. But what was luck to us? We never needed any, we "made" our own luck I suppose you can say. We made our future, our hate, our love, and our friendship. But wait I'm getting ahead of myself again.
When I remember you I also remember the intimate things as well, and yes I mean intimate this time. Your hair, kiss, hand holds, noises, smells, faces, the music that was played, the laughter, the tingling feelings, the butterflies, the outfits not worn, the end result, the excuses, and the consequences.
When I remember I remember it all, including the end.
The ending? Isn't that whats most important? The most vital part of any story? The part people guess about, sit on the edge of their seats, cry and sometimes laugh over. The end, it's supposed to be the best part and if it's not, well then it's just not a good story.
What was the ending? How did it? Well I wouldn't want to ruin a good memory by telling you. I wouldn't want to spoil the end result...so this time I'll start at the beginning to jog your memory instead of blurting out the end that always makes you blush.
Personal, now why didn't I just use that word in the first place.
Erase go back intimate personal.
I remember the feelings that came about when we talked about our days and lives.
I remember hands clapping, glances, t.v's, music, sayings...everything that goes along with all of that. The smell of rooms and familiar places. I remember trying new things and the faces we made if we didn't like them. I remember outfits and things we would consider lucky. But what was luck to us? We never needed any, we "made" our own luck I suppose you can say. We made our future, our hate, our love, and our friendship. But wait I'm getting ahead of myself again.
When I remember you I also remember the intimate things as well, and yes I mean intimate this time. Your hair, kiss, hand holds, noises, smells, faces, the music that was played, the laughter, the tingling feelings, the butterflies, the outfits not worn, the end result, the excuses, and the consequences.
When I remember I remember it all, including the end.
The ending? Isn't that whats most important? The most vital part of any story? The part people guess about, sit on the edge of their seats, cry and sometimes laugh over. The end, it's supposed to be the best part and if it's not, well then it's just not a good story.
What was the ending? How did it? Well I wouldn't want to ruin a good memory by telling you. I wouldn't want to spoil the end result...so this time I'll start at the beginning to jog your memory instead of blurting out the end that always makes you blush.