Once I Reached Your Hand, The Voices Vanished Into Nothing. The World Quieted As My Body Rested Like

What's the first word that comes to your mind when you think of your loved ones?

Don't Cry—Two Versions, Two Souls..

I’ve been listening to these songs for two years now, and I still can’t move on!! Ever had a song completely wreck you? Well, Don’t Cry by Guns N’ Roses did it twice. Two versions, same name, same story—but they hit so differently. And I feel both. Every. Single. Time.

I first heard the Alternative Version, and the very first line hit me like a truck. "If we could see tomorrow, what are your plans?" It made me stop and think—if I could see my future, would I still be this lost? Would I still be stuck in my own head? Would I finally have answers? And when he says, "Knowing your love's decided, and all love is real," it messes me up. Is love really the main point of life? Is it what makes us want to live ?and feel safe & alive?

And the pain in this version—it’s not just about heartbreak. It’s about realizing something heartbreaking. "I thought I could live in your world as years all went by." That’s when it gets too real... The feeling of trying—really trying—to be part of someone's world, only to realize you never truly belonged there. And when he says,

"My heart won’t deny you. So many seem so lonely with no one left to cry to," I feel that. He’s letting go, but not for himself—for the other person. Because real love isn’t just about having someone, it’s about wanting them to be happy, even if it’s not with you and the fact ( WORST FACT EVERRR ) that YES! Some people have no one.....

Then there’s the Original Version. And this one? This one is different. Softer. Warmer. It’s love, even in goodbye. The first line? "Talk to me softly, there's something in your eyes." That’s the kind of love that sees you, that notices when you’re hurting without you even saying a word. He doesn’t want them to hold their pain alone. He just wants them to talk. To be heard. To be understood.

And the way he holds on—"Give me a kiss before you tell me goodbye." That one sentence carries everything. It’s like he knows they have to part, but he just wants one last moment before it’s over. It’s not bitter. It’s not angry. It’s just love. And the most heartbreaking part????

"There's a heaven above you, baby." Like, no matter how painful this is, there’s something bigger, something watching over us. Maybe love never really dies—it just shifts, moves, finds another way to exist through this heaven

And that’s why these songs will never leave me. It’s genius. Two songs, same story, yet completely different perspectives. One is holding on, the other is realizing. One is still soft, even when it’s over. The other is questioning everything, wondering if it was ever real.

I still listen and I still feel everything. This is what music is supposed to do. This is why it’s a masterpiece.

My memory loves you; it asks about you all the time.

Blending into every detail of my day - a thought of you, intertwining with everything, so even the warmth of my coffee reminds me of the warmth of your hands!

And your face is drawn between the clouds of my mind, forcing me to stop caring about them. What clouds when you're here, love?

My memory craves you, and I'm drained..

How do I answer its constant question, "When will we make new memories?"

What if it denies me and keeps talking about us when I tell it that you've gone?

Would you please tell me how I can flee from it and from your eyes?

My forever love language is making sure they feel seen-and truly wanting to see them, mind, heart, and soul.

I don’t want the children of another woman

to have the eyes of the man I won’t forget

ذاكرتي تُحبك ، تسألني عنك طوال الوقت

تتداخل بكل تفاصيل يومي - صورةٌ لك ،

تتداخلُ بكل تفاصيل يومي فحتى دفء كوبي يذكرني بدفء يديك

يُرسَم محياك بين غيوم عقلي مُجبِرًا على نسيانها

أية غيوم إن كنت حاضرًا ؟

ذاكرتي تُحبك وأنا مللت

كيف أجيب سؤالها الدائم عن ذكريات جديدة لك ؟

ماذا إن عاندتني وظلت تحدثني عنّا إن أجبتها بأنك رحلت...

كيف الوذ فرارًا منها ومن عيناك ؟

But maybe the fire means you're alive— deeply alive. That even when it hurts this much, it's proof of your ability to love, to feel, to be human in a way that's raw and real.

I'm either empty or completely in love with you.

Lying beneath the sky,

Cradled by the whispers of the wind,

Tracing the memory of your browns—soft, endless.

I breathe life in every shade of you,

And through loving you,

I learn the language of existence itself.

How can a color so simple feel so rare?

How does life itself surrender to a look?

How do your eyes carry all of this?

When did all the time I lived without them vanish into nothing?