You're touching me like piano keys
“We've been gone and the miles stretched down the long road, we moved as fast as we could”
Rejection hits like a brick wall. Just like any other misstep you can have, you just have to get up. But then you look around to ensure no one saw, and of course laugh uneasily at your own folly. It was just a mistake.
Sitting in the passenger seat next to him I can’t help but look out the window. Looking him in the eyes hurts too much. Unfortunately, glass reflects, and his face shines clearly back at mine. I can see his eyes search the side of my face for answers. I never know whether to show my vulnerability or to keep it hidden. Some may think I’m coldhearted for it, but I just don’t want to get hurt. This time I’m going to hide it. Staring at the glass window is hard when his eyes, those big green eyes, just star back at me. I can’t take it any more. I can’t take seeing those eyes. I can’t. I just can’t. The car starts; he looks away, and backs out. His disappointment in my ability to hide my feelings shows through a frown and a shake of his head but, he keeps driving.
This hideous town couldn’t have lasted any longer. I just wanted to hit the open road again and maybe shake these bruises off my spirits. But to my displeasure the houses and small convenience stores kept showing their faces along side the rusted old car.
It had been a long month filled with cheap hotels, diner food, and crappy gas stations. Sometimes I wonder what I’m doing. Why did I leave the comfort of everyday life to take some random ass trip to the middle of fuckin’ no where? But then I look over at my companion and remember what it was all about. I think he started this trip wanting an adventure as well. Maybe he thought this would be something to look back on and maybe be proud of, or at least be happy about doing. But, after our uncomfortable confessions of feelings, who knows how he’ll feel about the journey now.
“Will you drive? I can’t stand these fuckin’ shakes.”
I’m looking through your lines of metaphor, cutting through the rhyme, and trying to find the hidden meaning. Why can’t you just say it with feeling?
I wish everything could just stop. That was my hope for this trip; to get everything to just stop. I want to get up and wander down the forgotten ally ways and find those secret passages that I never knew existed. My soul is lost. I want time to find it before life is over. I mean we only get one shot. If I can’t find it now, what the hell am I going to do?
I lost it after heartache; the kind of heartache that eats away from the inside out.
My God it burns.
I need to heal.
I want to be able to live fully and comfortably with my soul and heart intacked.
Maybe I can start today? Tomorrow? Next week?
Pain could be pleasure.
"through the heat of the desert and the cruelty of that Buick's seat just to keep on"
Rejection hits like a brick wall. Just like any other misstep you can have, you just have to get up. But then you look around to ensure no one saw, and of course laugh uneasily at your own folly. It was just a mistake.
Sitting in the passenger seat next to him I can’t help but look out the window. Looking him in the eyes hurts too much. Unfortunately, glass reflects, and his face shines clearly back at mine. I can see his eyes search the side of my face for answers. I never know whether to show my vulnerability or to keep it hidden. Some may think I’m coldhearted for it, but I just don’t want to get hurt. This time I’m going to hide it. Staring at the glass window is hard when his eyes, those big green eyes, just star back at me. I can’t take it any more. I can’t take seeing those eyes. I can’t. I just can’t. The car starts; he looks away, and backs out. His disappointment in my ability to hide my feelings shows through a frown and a shake of his head but, he keeps driving.
This hideous town couldn’t have lasted any longer. I just wanted to hit the open road again and maybe shake these bruises off my spirits. But to my displeasure the houses and small convenience stores kept showing their faces along side the rusted old car.
It had been a long month filled with cheap hotels, diner food, and crappy gas stations. Sometimes I wonder what I’m doing. Why did I leave the comfort of everyday life to take some random ass trip to the middle of fuckin’ no where? But then I look over at my companion and remember what it was all about. I think he started this trip wanting an adventure as well. Maybe he thought this would be something to look back on and maybe be proud of, or at least be happy about doing. But, after our uncomfortable confessions of feelings, who knows how he’ll feel about the journey now.
“Will you drive? I can’t stand these fuckin’ shakes.”
I’m looking through your lines of metaphor, cutting through the rhyme, and trying to find the hidden meaning. Why can’t you just say it with feeling?
I wish everything could just stop. That was my hope for this trip; to get everything to just stop. I want to get up and wander down the forgotten ally ways and find those secret passages that I never knew existed. My soul is lost. I want time to find it before life is over. I mean we only get one shot. If I can’t find it now, what the hell am I going to do?
I lost it after heartache; the kind of heartache that eats away from the inside out.
My God it burns.
I need to heal.
I want to be able to live fully and comfortably with my soul and heart intacked.
Maybe I can start today? Tomorrow? Next week?
Pain could be pleasure.
"through the heat of the desert and the cruelty of that Buick's seat just to keep on"