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My xbdjjd brain jdjdjejdhgi
Is dikejrj just diduuwba a jxjdbej
Mess fijdndidien of ueuqkndigifn randomness
Xijebsuxbenn but dujeb I’m fkdjebxu jxjdb
Told zihehdn someone dndih will xjdjebu make kfifj
It kdkej clearer ifuwhsy euhebek someday
Kfifjejdu until ududbe then
Dyhe jdjdjdii pay dudj no mind furjbwjs to
My jfuby yshsbdram rambling

She always smiles like she’s about to cry,
Looking at me,
As though she’s expecting a goodbye.
I’m not leaving,
But I can’t stay too close.
For I’m afraid to live,
But more afraid to die.

the sky paints a familiar purple
a lilac trailing in the form of clouds
its vivid reflection dancing upon your skin
and your fingertips, and mine,
and the corners of your lips.

sometimes, it's in the bruises on your knuckles
or the cold blueberries on somber evenings
the way lavenders adorn your long dark hair.
windswept yet sightly.
and your darling voice would lull me to sleep
and send my soul alight.

but time and again,
its the middle ground for the head and the heart
the brief moment between sunset and evenings
the mauve that says i love you without need for words.

assurance and certainty placed among the berried table
the courage to wade in it's deepest depths.
avert your gaze skyward and see
even the vibrant heavens can be
a place where you can lay your soul to rest.

"When you don't know what you're living for, you don't care how you live from one day to the next. You're happy the day has passed and the night has come, and in your sleep you bury the tedious question of what you lived for that day and what you're going to live for tomorrow"

- Ivan Goncharov