I will never get tired of hearing her voice and I am certain everyone reading this will not either.
So here’s Shreya yet again reading some of my words. The feeling she brings to this is more than my voice ever could.
I still don’t know if I’m here.
My body is here.
I know I am sitting here,
Writing this but
Where is my mind?
Where is my heart?
I need something to reassure me.
Something that will let me know that my soul
Still rests inside.
Something to let this sense of detachment stop.
I need your hand,
A hand I’ve held
In the most fleeting of moments.
A second or two,
A hand I have brushed
And took to like paper to a pen.
I need that touch of reality
That will burst out the bad from me
And pull back the mind and heart leaving me.
I need your hand.