healing. .

lost deep within my thought's. .

memory hurts everything felt. .

shinning on the present to repeat the past. .

hoping this night's my last. .

running from everything,

standing for nothing. .

then a gentle touch from a beautiful flower,

must be ivy or poision oak,

maybe its that marijauana you smoke. .

since that day we've hardly spoke. .

yet something was felt, although a generation apart. .

some how, she touched my heart. .