There's a black cat that follows me home every night I feel her gaze cut to the bone. I walk in her shadow I cannot escape sometimes it's more than I can take. There's no use running, she's always one step ahead though some will say it's all just in my head Black cat, turn away I'm growing tired of this struggle every day
One common misconception about night owls is that it isn't about staying up late, not to party or to relax, but the feeling the silence and the darkness brings. In this solitude we find peace of mind, we find the atmosphere to create, to work and to unwind. The world is asleep and I have never felt more alive.
Somewhere tonight there’s a girl writing a song between working two jobs, ignoring the voices that tell her to give up. I hope she never does. I hope her future is a bright one.
I guess this love was never reciprocated. Now, our words just linger and fade like bedroom cigarette smoke. Maybe my heart will also fade out of my chest on my walk home. That’d be nice.
It’s terrifying when you get hit with a revelation at 2am that you can’t picture yourself five or ten years into the future sharing a cosy suburban apartment with the love of your life, with a family to call your own.
Love is like a flower It can be so delicate And when you are seduced with its beauty and delicacy You will want to pluck it. But plucking, in essence, Kills the flower Love is different. Love is leaving it be; Letting it flourish and growing with the flower. Love is watering the flower when it needs it. Love is letting the flower Live among its kind if it desires it. Love is appreciating, Love is beautiful but when one tries to control or mold someone into an idea, this is when love dies
I have a compulsive habit where I tend to cut people off the second they get close to me. Maybe I do this because I’m terrified of being hurt again; but maybe the reason isn’t important. I tend to cut them off quickly but allow you to stay in the background like a radio; On, yet no one is listening to it. I’ll cut off anyone that reminds me of you because maybe if I ignore you long enough you’ll fade away.
I don’t fear getting lost in your eyes, I fear getting lost in your voice. I see myself in those eyes and I see my home. Your voice, though- it can swallow me whole with all your little words and I would never return.
Why is it that broken people confide in my words? Is it because I’m broken too? Are we shards from the same bottle? Does it help when we fit into place? You and I, a tragic jigsaw puzzle Or when I put you back together? I don’t know why it is, All I know is that my words bring a temporary relief to myself and to the broken people
It’s important not to take these things personally. Sometimes people hate you through no fault of your own. And sometimes people push you away just because they’re afraid of what will happen if you get too close. And sometimes people leave because they came to realize that you weren't right for them before you could realize that they weren't right for you. And that's okay because not everybody can love you.
She slithers in underneath my door in the dead of night. I let my guard down and she slides up my bed, underneath the covers and curls around my spine. She whispers sweet terrors and I find myself awake and fighting this anxiety that has me in her grip.
There's still a part of me in London- I left it in my dingy block on Deptford High Street. Another part of me still remains in St James Park, somewhere in the flowers and another somewhere in the markets of Camden Town. I don't think it'll ever leave.
I rehearse the words I want to say to you over and over again in my head. Tonight I should be sleeping, but I have to think this through; I have to get this right. I’m pretty certain I’m just another face to you, or, that’s what I’m becoming. But you were never just another face. And you will never be just another face. Nor will you become a distant memory; I will always carry you close to my heart even though I’m pretty sure I never got close to yours.
You know, I don’t blame you. And how could I blame you, when it was me? I get it, I'm not the easiest person to be around, let alone love. I admire you for trying- it must have been exhausting. But that's okay, I don't mind being alone- maybe I'm the only company that can tolerate me.
Like lavender, this world is a brighter place because of your beauty and your grace. Like lavender, there is something about you, so wild yet so soft, that gets me through. Like lavender, you have a scent so divine, and I have been blessed to call it mine.
I’m sorry that you have to carry around that key to my heart, that **** rusted thing, not knowing what it unlocked. I’m sorry that we may never meet or that you may never unshackle me from these heavy chains. This is not your burden, only mine to carry. So treat this key As a mystery, as a treasure from me to you. Let it hang around your neck Or under your pillow and remember that someday somewhere is waiting to be unlocked; a treasure for the ages. Remember not to worry; this story doesn’t need a happy ending or an ending at all.
It stormed yesterday. Today the sky is clear and now they're yours to conquer. So remember, whenever struggle and pain are present, it will always pass- the oceans are yours to surpass. So fill your heart, Purge your mind, Spread your wings, Go ahead and fly, kid, The world is yours.
Sure, I am just a passenger in this story of your life but each ride exhilarates me; it rocks me to my core and leaves me wanting more. I always leave with a smile, like we drove to the top of the world; the perfect stop to drop me off and let loose the butterflies I collected along the way.
Angels come and go with pain and love and without warning. If you should be so lucky As to meet an angel in this world treasure them- for there’s no telling when their halo will lift or their wings will take flight. So cherish them- but keep in mind they are not forever and that one day they may become a stranger once again.