I find myself needing to put to paper all the mess that can’t organize itself in my brain.
I’m not quite sure where I’m going with this
It’s nothing poetic, let alone inspiring. Inspired, perhaps.
Yes
Inspired by moonlight
My tired eyes can’t seem to find a way out of the sadness they held for too long. But they’re slowly learning to fall in love again, the same way my heart is.
I’m trying to learn to be strong, baby. I’m teaching myself to be strong for you.
I’m teaching myself to play a song
For you
The lyrics forcing themselves out of your speakers know exactly what to say. They speak our feelings for us. They know what’s in our hearts.
You told me that you feel things. Baby, I think I have that same sickness. It’s the kind that lives in your heart.
If it’s what I’m thinking of, be prepared for trouble. For aching. For longing. Be prepared for words I can’t even begin to remember until they’re there on my lips.
Be prepared for joy. For unvanquished optimism. For the kind of longing that aches in the most beautiful way.