I spent the day with you, waiting for the Sun to set; that I might kiss you in the darkness it left behind.
I can't see my future, with my present sight, but mother says that I will be alright.
I have been skipping online classes as of late; assignments turned cold, piled up on my plate.
I am uncertain of what the future holds, certainly apprehensive of tomorrow.
Am I alone, in this regard?
White, longing to be stained.
Blank, lacking character, hoping one bestows you a name.
Lined, and confined 8 11, words shall make you free to fly and soar straight into heaven.
A juxtaposition, your very being has attained
Words defined and combined, Paper's Poem shall be yours;
The Unclean, mine.
I had met you, quite sometime ago, now I reflect in awe in and earnest, at how the bonds of our friendship have grown.
We are well acquainted with each other's joys and sorrows - Our highs and lows. May we continue as co; passengers and drivers, upon life's lengthy road.
An ear always lent; advice offered without a cost. Truly, to have lived without knowing you or your talents, would have been my greatest loss.
Yet, my Lady is most humble; a flower apprehensive of praise. "Why are my meagre achievements deserving?" Must be the introspective question, which you so often raise. Then pray permit me, if this be the case, to spoil you upon your precious day; to tell you that you are deserving of all the spoken treasures, that this whole world retains.
My friends are numbered, so shortly... So few. Yet I am most delighted, to count first among them, You.
May God be generous and a Father unto you. And may the heavenly choirs sing now, "Bon anniversaire." to you
My heart professes perpetuity, and was so faithful to, yet my mortality minds no frame nor memory of you.
This epidermis sheds and skins from disuse; need my heart evidence, might my chill-cracked palms be your proof?
The contours of your constitution, all known by their names, are perhaps now amended by the passage of passing age and days.
The sirens of your voice's sound, awaken me from my dreams; the symphonies of my soul's supplications, now so strange and foreign seem.
My heart professed perpetuity, and is so faithful to, so should this skeleton and its dependents devoice - mon Amour; my heart remains with you.
Seconds sire seasons, life by stroll or sprint fades.
In search of higher reasons, none are ignorant of the null totality of yesteryear.
Time is neither favour nor fear; for Oak roots expand their domain, just as vast canopies usurp heaven’s terrain; a babe’s bones are made strong, even more so as toddlers play, yet still shatter, to dust decay, by the passage of Time’s decades.
Live this life, for better or worse; surmount the strife, and derive blessing from curse.
Are you cold tonight?
Do your eyes envy the rain?
If only Noah's Flood, could wash and drown these longings all away; then I would dance with you, my love, beneath the rising waves.
Tomorrow isn't ours, but tonight, I'll message you thrice as much as I could write; of how I'd hold you closely, and closer, on another Sunday night.
I imagine you cocooned within your blanket, covered from head to toe. Your glasses are on the bedside table, frosted and clouded by the cold.
There's nothing quite like your voice, and that way that your happiness seems to flow; your heart is the thing that I want most to hold... to keep and shelter, and to share with you my own.