moemantium

He really wanted be able to smile in public, no judgement, that'd be nice? Maybe carry a sign to let her know that she is what grants him meaning. She's always telling him just the smile will do. That's the memory of her, that is. Eyes taking on the world, his glare was no match for the past. Assaulted by the future that she resided deep within. Each strike curled a grin longer than the pain experienced, leaving tears met with a smile. The one she oh so adored. That's in the absence of him, that is. As soon as their eyes meet again, one can only wonder if they understand what it means to let go. Locked at the heart, an unhealthy snack cradling the taste buds maternally. What a silly way to put it, she'd always tell him with a smothering warmth. Raising his frown into a peaceful afterlife of serenity. Peace. Two fools lost in an empty space asking one another for directions. Fondling the line between being in love and being but a pass-time. Those were his words, not mine. Those were her thoughts, he thought; she knows. He really wanted to fade away, on the brink of sobbing in a crowded place. Despite being as sober as the light of day. That's the memory of her, that is. She takes on each moment with the confines of a forced and traumatic past leading the way. Each decision would lead the one that truly cared further and further away. That's in the absence of him, that is. The cycle goes on, the creak of the left pedal with every firm stroke of the leg. Paranoia sinking in waiting for its fall. Until then, however, let's ride until our destination.