I just don't think i'll ever get over you
i drink good coffee every morning
'comes from a place that's far away
when i'm done i feel like talking
'thout you here, there is less to say
don't want you thinking i'm unhappy
what is closer to the truth
that if i lived till i was a hundred and two
i just don't think i'll ever get over you
no longer moved to drink strong wiskey
i shook the hand of time and i knew
that if i lived 'till i could no longer climb my stairs
i just don't think i'll ever get over you
a face that dances and it haunts me
laugher still ringin' in my ears
i still find pieces of your presence here
even, even after all these years
i don't want you thinking that i don't get asked to dinner
'cuz i here to say that i sometimes do
even though i may soon feel the touch of love
i just don't think i'll ever get over you
if i live 'till i was a hundred and two
i just don't think i'll ever get over you
-Colin Hay, from a song entitled 'I just don't think i'll ever get over you.'
i have been single for over a year now. it had been about 423 days since my girlfriend decided she didn't want me. most of the hurt my heart once knew it has either forgotten... or ignored out of neccessity. the nagging echo of the soft skin on her stomach that once buzzed incessantly in the memory of my finger-tips and the wearing reverberation of the scent of her neck in my nostrils are finally silenced... for the most part. yet i still cannot remove her completely from the seat she once occupied in my heart and my life. it is as if we drank of one another until our fill and-then-some... and as we became drunken in ourselves, flame spilled over the brims of our glasses onto the white washed walls and ground of my heart, spotting it, and staining it forever a tinge of her. i have tried catharsis. i have tried desperately to cleanse and purge and purify my palate of the taste is was dependent upon... even addicted to... but i cannot. i am afraid that there will eternally be a ghost of a once loved woman inhabiting the recesses of my soul, haunting me, reminding me incessantly of the stigma she has left behind.
or, what i like to think will happen, is that when i finally meet HER, i won't even remember why i wrote this in the first place.
so colin hay, i hope you're wrong, man.
'comes from a place that's far away
when i'm done i feel like talking
'thout you here, there is less to say
don't want you thinking i'm unhappy
what is closer to the truth
that if i lived till i was a hundred and two
i just don't think i'll ever get over you
no longer moved to drink strong wiskey
i shook the hand of time and i knew
that if i lived 'till i could no longer climb my stairs
i just don't think i'll ever get over you
a face that dances and it haunts me
laugher still ringin' in my ears
i still find pieces of your presence here
even, even after all these years
i don't want you thinking that i don't get asked to dinner
'cuz i here to say that i sometimes do
even though i may soon feel the touch of love
i just don't think i'll ever get over you
if i live 'till i was a hundred and two
i just don't think i'll ever get over you
-Colin Hay, from a song entitled 'I just don't think i'll ever get over you.'
i have been single for over a year now. it had been about 423 days since my girlfriend decided she didn't want me. most of the hurt my heart once knew it has either forgotten... or ignored out of neccessity. the nagging echo of the soft skin on her stomach that once buzzed incessantly in the memory of my finger-tips and the wearing reverberation of the scent of her neck in my nostrils are finally silenced... for the most part. yet i still cannot remove her completely from the seat she once occupied in my heart and my life. it is as if we drank of one another until our fill and-then-some... and as we became drunken in ourselves, flame spilled over the brims of our glasses onto the white washed walls and ground of my heart, spotting it, and staining it forever a tinge of her. i have tried catharsis. i have tried desperately to cleanse and purge and purify my palate of the taste is was dependent upon... even addicted to... but i cannot. i am afraid that there will eternally be a ghost of a once loved woman inhabiting the recesses of my soul, haunting me, reminding me incessantly of the stigma she has left behind.
or, what i like to think will happen, is that when i finally meet HER, i won't even remember why i wrote this in the first place.
so colin hay, i hope you're wrong, man.
posted by Lord Milton Pepperbottom III at 9:33 AM
7 Comments:
hey Jev! Just wanted to post a comment on your page. Later
KC
i am quite confident that SHE is out there...and she is going to be one very blessed girl when she meets you.
i can only hope...
what the crap? don't give me that apathy, i expect more out of jev forsberg! and i know there is more to be expected. okay, so life sometimes doesn't go the way we anticipated. but love, real true, deep and lasting love is not coincidence, my friend, it is the result of pursuit, hard work, sacrifice and time. luckily, a few sweet memories of soft skin and intoxicating beauty are not the quintessence of true love.
thanks man, i welcome your uplifting word... one must admit though, it is difficult to placate ones pathos, whether positive or negative, in the face of seemingly unhurdlable love adversity (am i really being that surprisingly hyperbolic). i would love to be relentlessly positive about any situation, only i assume whoever this is knows me well enough to know that that doesn't happen to always be my strong suit. i do appreciate what you said though, it's nice to know you're in my corner...
the way i see it, the wait is gonna make your meeting all the more sweeter. keep the faith!
I keep hoping the same thing...that meeting HIM will make me forget about Sarge. It's only been since May, but I can still remember every detail, every tactile sensation, every sound, everything about when he was around and when he was in Baghdad. So far, only one has been able to make me forget about him for a few moments or hours at a time, but at the end of the day, I still think about him, even if only in dreams after I've gone to sleep.
But the part of me that has already healed, the part of me that can heal, looks at the still-broken parts and wonders if a few of them will ever be useable again, and I think that maybe I'll end up carrying this with me not only until I'm 102, but all the way into the next lifetimes (however many I'm forced to live out on this little marble until I'm allowed to finally go home).
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