That ache Not a longing for someone That long press on the soul Not a desire for a perfect day Not one of these things that seem obvious That neither hurt nor go away The ache of years The low weight of time settling out to sludge and grime that serves as the mud that lets things grow That makes things take on the taste and disguise of the past It is all of this It is nothing but the darkness at night The wind through dead trees A scrap of moonlight in the clouds It is a callus formed over nerves that resonates as a dull echo That cold sinking certainty that certain things felt will never be felt again It is gone The memories are so sweet that we believe it must have been the best thing we will ever experience This thing we cannot fully see This thing that haunts us Like magic Like disappearing
Like Disappearing
Like Disappearing
Like Disappearing
That ache Not a longing for someone That long press on the soul Not a desire for a perfect day Not one of these things that seem obvious That neither hurt nor go away The ache of years The low weight of time settling out to sludge and grime that serves as the mud that lets things grow That makes things take on the taste and disguise of the past It is all of this It is nothing but the darkness at night The wind through dead trees A scrap of moonlight in the clouds It is a callus formed over nerves that resonates as a dull echo That cold sinking certainty that certain things felt will never be felt again It is gone The memories are so sweet that we believe it must have been the best thing we will ever experience This thing we cannot fully see This thing that haunts us Like magic Like disappearing