Her sun sets on everything undeniable.

I want to make you smile.

I want to make you cringe.

I want to portray the most harrowing thing and turn it into something worth admiring.

Maybe a drop of ink and a flick of the pen will make you dance; make you sing. Sing with a voice that you have never heard before. A voice you have always found adverse and undesirable; but a voice that I have always heard that is beautiful and charming.

I don’t want to write you words.

I want to make meaning of every sound that my voice makes, influencing the certain symbols I put down on this sliver sheet of semblance.

She’s beautiful,
In all of her flaws.

Her crooked smile,
Welcoming.

Her crooked mind,
Captivating.

Her crooked love,
Alluring.

This is how we know we are alive.
The weighty wind whipping at my weary face,
Begging me.
Whistling me a chorus to dance to.
“I will be your remedy.”

A city of sunflowers,
Endlessly oscillating,
Waving at me.
Their happiness, imminent and palpable.
This is how we know we are alive.

A blanket of rain,
Calm and alleviating.
With no canopy to harbor under;
As each droplet secures my face,
This is how we know we are alive.

And there she is.
Her beautiful voice, like the wind.
Her delicate smile, happy like the flowers.
Her touch; reminiscent of the rain.
This is how I know I am alive.

I wish I had a girl.
Someone I could hold on to.
And trust. Someone who wouldn’t pull away.
Someone who might hold on to my hand tighter, right after I grab hers.
Someone who would stay up with me all night, just talking.
Talking about music, movies, or even just about what’s on our minds at the moment.
Someone I could send a “good morning” text to, every single morning.
A girl who has a passion for something.
Maybe even more than I do.
Someone who would laugh with me.
Someone who would let me make them smile.
Someone who would let me come over to cheer them up whenever they needed it.
Someone who knows they can rest their head on my shoulder.
Someone who’s irresponsible.
But smart.
A girl who has beauty surrounding her.
In everything she does.

Someone I could give the world to.
And someone who would let me show them off to the world.

I
Like lightning

It strikes me
Beautiful
And a sizable
Occurrence

The current
Courses through

I like lightning
It tears me through

Inches away, I see the texture of her fine skin. But the way of the whistling window, shall I close it? The wind is heavy but it’s the only thing keeping the room from the simple silence. I decide to close it anyway. With our certain thoughts and keen presentations, the room is far from reserved. What do I do? My hands are shaking and my mind, trembling. My heart seems to be flowing through my body and laid out uneven for her to tamper with.

Few words are then said.

Ecstasy fills up the room and permeates through the open door and the closed window.