To leave this world and fly away.
Those are the dreams of the wanderer.
The walls are bare!
The room, blank.
This is the end, my friend.
I can not handle the amount of white.
The lack of colour.
I glance at my walls
A moment of panic.
Have I been robbed?
But heavens no.
I just redecorated.
And I hate it.
You laugh at my horrible jokes.
You claim there is beauty in the mess that is me.
You find talent in my basic self.
You love me, no matter how bizarre I find it.
And all I can do is ask.
I haven't written poetry in like 3-4 months and so this is pretty crummy but that's okay honestly.
In this point of my life you are so much more than a pretty face.
I want to hold your hand.
And your hand only.
I want to call you mine.
But I've never done so before.
I want to sit with you,
Beneath the dark night sky.
I want to listen to your voice over the phone.
Midnight passing hours ago.
I want to wake up to your good morning messages.
And fall asleep to your good night.
I want all these things.
Thing I may not need.
Yet yearn for, nonetheless.
I'm in a sort of mushy mood right now because consistency doesn't exist.
We had more than a spark.
We were a raging fire.
The biggest the world had ever seen.
But I wasn't ready to burn.
I'm homesick for a home I've never been.
Yearning for a place that is found on no map.
Longing for the nonexistent.
- forever a traveller.