So imagine a person. This person wants another person. This person waits. Wishes that that person would come by. Wishes that person would love without inhibition. This person cannot stop the music. Thoughts would choke her. She's actually stone. Of course. Things like this are trivial.
Then that person comes. He says something, nothing really - and the walls come tumbling down. Such wretched emotions. Why do they plague us so? Why does he leave so soon?
Enough of the melodrama. Let's all get a grip shall we? It's not like, in the big scheme of things happening in the universe, little things make a difference. Do they? Let's just live in the past till the present starts to pick up. It's the best we can do. Don't let the walls go down.
Because the ones you want to stay usually don't. It's the bitter irony that has inspired many poems, novels, movies. Tragic romance.
A distant dance, moving slowly, holding quietly.
Maybe nothing makes sense now, but it will. The truth will out. But truth is precarious. Unbalanced.
Like heels on cobblestone roads.