Gold Plated Dreams

(Source: detailsorientedbyshapepluspace)

Nostalgia rises.

The memories creep up to the surface.

I drown in my thoughts.

While grasping for air. 

So close, yet so far away. 

A stranger of touch overnight. 

I don’t seek the feelings. 

I only miss them. 

We see what we want. 

I hope for something else. 

Not mediocre.

But intense. 

Not wasted days.

But lessons between our fingers. 

Which we must grasp

during the surges of pain.

4/3/13

(Source: Flickr / jessicachrist, via coffeeandstrawberries)