Sunday, January 22, 2012

The Scent of Salt on The Wind

I miss singing, I miss the way it feels like flying, you catch your heart smiling. It's better than being in love.
The notes strummed on the guitar.
It's a dream of mine to perform, but for the moment I sing to walls and empty rooms.
It's like that teenage dream, the movie moment when the boy falls in love with the girl because of the song she sings.
There's so much that I used to wish for, but the melody of my dreams floated away on the ocean breeze.
The notes scattered with the ashes of my poetry.
The curtain has fallen on the stage of a deserted theater.
And I cry for what I've lost, for the things that will never be again.

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