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Moving SlowlyThe squeaking door to his soul is closing,
He’s stepping softly, But she’s awake now, Watching him escape again Through curtains leading to the yesterday, Where she can’t chase him… Every silence has a reason, Hiding fears that guard the past He’s struggling to forget And break the daunting silence Filled with old doubts. Every time he returns in hopes to find her gone, Thinking: From his downfalls like every other she must have run. But here she sleeps in his bed Hiding grief in her eyes, As she smiles. He craves that healing embrace Of her cold icy hands As the dawn slowly dies Into the new day of tomorrow with her. The squeaking door to his soul is closing, He’s stepping softly, He’s back in bed now. Holding her with care As if she’s ancient porcelain, But she won’t break… This is not the last time, She knows it well, He’ll become transparent again and again. But now he’s asleep as she rustles in the sheets, Never again will she lose him in the streets… She’ll be walking Close behind him, Moving slowly, Shifting moments… |