![](https://res.cloudinary.com/jerrick/image/upload/d_642250b563292b35f27461a7.png,f_jpg,fl_progressive,q_auto,w_1024/62107848d03c50001fed4acb.png)
I felt it, that ivory stake through my chest.
A feeling you wouldn't soon put to rest.
My eyes laid on you and they shivered.
Even my hands, they quivered.
I felt it as you passed me by, this fluttering feeling of butterflies.
A soothing ache which I couldn't stay.
A marooned fake of which I had so little to play.
These throbs, these sensations.
Like a job, rife with deliberation.
A stressful jolt of painful revolt against the sorrowful tone I'd felt atoned for my past.
And when you looked to me at last, your eyes shined brighter than Belfast.
While I stepped through those Oleander scented streets, a feeling of fleeting relief ran through these sheets.
As not once I had felt this before, not once had I lost my feet.
A bittersweet cleat slammed into my chest, a crushing feeling of rest.
And I still stare at you, with a pipe dream in my head.
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