Street Lights glowing
It gets quiet. Then he says, "you heard Ye's "Street Lights" yet?" In between those six words, lingers a heavier question then what's being breathed over the phone. What do I say to him, when I feel the same way as he does? Feeling as if I am a 17-year old trying to decide what's my next move after high-school graduation. Here I am wanting him to have the passion I had when I flew 46-states away, close to two years ago; when I left my roots in the West and rested my wings in the East. Except that my passion is still sweet but low. Lately, it's as if I'm trying to push the star shaped block into the triangle hole. I'll keep running, whether chasing pavements or a continually changing dream.
It's him. It's me. Is it you too?
de.licio.us
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