She was honest but yet undecided, decided though changed her mind, created a moment but backed out

The only thing left to do was to be dishonest with herself and give in to his honesty

The honesty that came from the dishonesty of his own self-perspecutive

Which was swayed by years of disbelief in his lack of practice of persecution

This moment

This time they left no space for creativity but pursuing the desire of the unknown

The unexplored between the jungle of there own minds

The chaos of the growth that was planted by their own hands

Only to slowly flood the the wilderness covering up the beauty that yet was to flourish from within

Waiting, waiting is all he has till the water has lowered its tide

Showing the new path that was created from the weight from his own mind

Creating the moment and ceasing in the same

The decision of boldness is not created but taken and written in the contour of her face

The shock of why and what it may or may have stirred in the *** of emotional desires

Has yet to fully boil into her perfection of madness

Making the moves to continue on the waiting list or to retire from the list that was created

This was the question of the hour the minute that it took to make the decision of indecision

The decision of courage to over come thoughts of respected space and leave non to be had

The edge of desire is what kept him going with the guts original pattern

The one that could not only pull for miles but stretch across the globe

This is when it was made, be it either the chaos, the problems, or even the grand scheme of it all to unlikely succeed

He wondered why he was stuck in the unknown, but new it was the mystery that seemed to drive the illusion inside.

The continuous roll of the quivering wind breaks from all the chills that fills his stomach within.

For he felt the draw through the strings that have been placed along the waiting list.

The blank page that was placed in front of an already ripped abyss with nothing but the stains from the open wounds.

The scars and bruises fade with the blending of the suns glow.

Her glow which punctured her own barrier of comfortability pushes her away from the unexplored circumstances.

The question still remains of the time and space at which they collide through space and time.

The irrelavence or misconception of this is what pushes gravity down not up.

The things that matter most are usually gone unsaid, creating the space in return stealing the time.

This is what makes it all relevant not in grey but Black and White.

There are two ways to life the rest is just a haze amongst a strawberry cloud.