Forget me not
Forget me not
I’ve heard something whisper that into my heart.
I have. I remember
But I don’t even know what address to send my apology
Maybe I used to.
Maybe it was something I treasured.
A weathered forever now leftover wants to remember .
Let's talk more often.
There are somethings there that you don’t actually feel,
and there are some things you feel that
aren’t actually there
It’s to any’s curiosity
that Ive lost my grip
on reality’s terminology
what does the word real mean? Your thoughts aren't a thing but a concept, but we consider them real. They really happened.
Then... Is all concepted real? What if something's not physically real but i believe it's real?
Who can then tell me it's not reality.
My physical self is a trap, physicality another bind. Your senses make you think this sensory world is all there is.
The places my mind goes are real to me.
feelings , the hands that hold up the pathways my heart wanders upon; and thoughts the boat my mind uses float in a vastness.
A dot in the middle of it all is consciousness, an existing that means so much Less.
And I no longer consider reality, my reality.
Time to find what youre looking for
What are you looking for?
You need more?
Pour your heart out onto this
Its startling how we're starting from
Being again let's begin again
A one minute quick write from English class with the prompt "for example"
Today I said words that didn’t mean what I wanted him to hear
I have a lot of short things like this. Should I just post them all?
He turned to the ornate seraph of a human, her whole life ahead of her.
"What do you want?"
"The sun the moon and the stars." She replied.
"My child," life said while patting her head. "I cannot give everyone all the sun, all the moon, and all the stars."
She is all these things, a mind like bottled eternity and a Hand full of ideation. But in return feeble things like the state of her human life suffers. Choices must be made, not everyone can have all the sun, all the moon, and all the stars.
It was the sky’s turn to switch palettes of colour. Though he forgot how, and they overflowed.
Excited for the marscarade ball sky decided to hold.
Colours danced epotic like that never told.
A cream white river sliced in half.
Azure heard thistle laugh.
But I blinked and the ball had settled to black.
I saw a sunset and... ☼ a story unfolded before me.
I just had to trap it in ink and paper and language. Azurite and thistle are two characters based on the blue and purple colours with their names. I’m thinking of writing something with azurite and thistle again soon.
It wont always be like this. It wont. And it will be all over your hands and it wont be like this.
— The End —