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She Dropped My Hand While Dancing

I teeter towards the end of the precipice, leading to the lake a few feet below. The moonlight dances on the surface and under it, dispersing and meeting all at the same time. Sitting at the edge, my mind floats into that consciously unconscious place where it sits peacefully blank.

Yet, a look at my blurred reflection marrs the beauty as the self hate creeps in, destroying silence in its wake. Wincing at the inflow of thoughts, I stare at the moon. So perfect and yet blemished. So many eyes looking at her and no eyes to look into.

If anyone knew how I felt, it was the moon. Left with no answer when I was kneeling, hopeful, with a ring.

The night train dropped me off at the station, yet I couldn’t bring myself to go to our dorm, alone. I stare at her picture in my wallet now, still unsure as to what flaw I have in me that she couldn’t give me a proper denial. Beside it sits the speech, the poem I prepared for her, all in vain.

To think that I would never be able to smell her vanilla and winter perfume, never hear that seal-like laugh, that I could never shower her with flannel clothes in November, that we would never call them our friends is too much to take all in, in one harsh breath.

She tells me that I’d find someone real, who’ll patch me up but what if I never find something, someone as good? I am not even sure if I would know it if I did meet someone. I sit here wondering if I just broke the best thing I had.

I sit here, in this hurt.


While that’s apparent from the title, I wrote this small thing as the guy’s pov from the song Champagne Problems by our favourite blondie:D

This is deffo not my best work, but I kinda like it?

Anyways, have a great day!

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