written in...
please sing me your song, the way you used to sing it. i want to float on the sound waves and push them into tune. don't let your voice be distant, like you're singing from another room. make me your mixed tape, the one you used to plan on making, and talk to me in between the songs, so i don't feel quite so lonely on the long journey home. your voice is familiar and makes the songs melt into one as if they belonged together. The sun shines through the glass and hits every surface on the inside and the blinding light bounces back against small eyes. you're not really there, but i can feel you all around me. in my head and in my thoughts. year after year...you always still seem to be there. The warmth is intoxicating and emanates the lavender perfume on delicate skin. The wounds have healed but scars still sting where they once blazed. She's all but forgotten, and its a long since those blood red lips have attracted something from a crowded room. i said that nothing lasts, and you said it would be forever. while fingers traced images on your back in flames, you said that you always loved a good crash. as his face turns into something else, he floats away. The sun doesn't seem to rest. The mixed tape is still on, and you're talking to me as if you're right next to me. Your voice never changes that much. wonder what you sound like today. tomorrow. the next day. dont know if i will ever know. or know why those scars still burn....