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childhood is so undeniably attractive
in youth, with eyes like hearts because we perceived with our hearts
and minds filled with stars and naivete; captivated by nuance yet aroused by simplicity
speaking in dreams and romance,
living freely, boldly, and fictitiously in some elders' disregarded reality.
and we remember such, in fleeting hope
that our greying eyes may see in spectrum once again.
if only
there was anger
to focus
as my blade
i'd cut your hands and tongue off
to spare myself
the pain
i opened the door
and crawled through the window
past your eyes
and into your soul
and i walked around
and i sat down
and i breathed you in
(inhaled so so deeply)
and i lied down
and i rolled around
and i cuddled with your whispers
and i tasted your sweetness
and i felt your smile
(a light so so warm)
and i absorbed it all
and i fell in love with it all
and i wrote it down
and now it is eternal.
you’re eternal
in my words
on a page
inside my notebook
inside my heart.
you are so absolutely lovely it drives me bonkers.
i love it when i see you. i love it when i look into your eyes.  i love that when you smile at me, you smile with your eyes.  it's like you're smiling with your soul.  that's how i feel.  i know you'll be leaving me soon and i'm not really okay with that.  i wish i could roll around in your soul forever and wrap it around me like a blanket and feel safe and loved and sit there and whisper with you for eternity.
at least on paper, you're eternal.  our moments are eternal. at least on paper.

— The End —