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I stare at the moon, the same one he sees, But is he thinking of me? My emotions swim through the long metal flute, Can he hear the soft melody? Does he dream the same dream that I do As I drift into slumber each night? Does he know what he means to a heart so young, So scarred, so vulnerable, so trusting? Can he see what is happening each time we cross paths, Or does it float by like a summer night’s dream? Too many questions, my heart aches with pain, Tears slipping softly, I brush them away. But who understand me, who can see what’s inside? Not I, can he? Yearning, compelled to him by a strong outside force, Is it fate, or a passing chance? How can I tell him when I don’t understand Exactly what it is that I am feeling? Or does he already know? |