you came from stars that speak beautiful thoughts of how the moon shines. their tales a string of songs that only you know how to sing, because you're the only one who's ever seen the stars up so close. you're the only one they could find, the only one so beautiful, so worthy of sharing their space. you, my love, came from beautiful places. places that shine gold and silver. and, dearest, the next time my mouth spills words of "where did i find you from" answer me with this, answer me with the beautiful thoughts that float in your mind. answer me with you.

i want to bury myself in your beautiful and let you take me away into a spiral of drunken giddiness where your words become my addiction. i want to wrap myself in your soulful air and breathe in the arms that you wrap around me. i need u s to become us and for us, to become that one word that makes you smile in the beautiful way you do.

you once told me, my smile was the prettiest thing that you'd seen in a long while. but darling, maybe you don't understand how the times i really smile are the times when you do too; when you look at me in a way that only i know. in a way that makes me believe it's real. and we are; we are real, and it's beautiful

Hope
Rises
Like
A
Phoenix
From
  The
Ashes
Of
Shattered
Dreams

You feel that you're falling, but
that's just your body rising to the skies.
See the sun shining upon the green fields
let the rain tickle you and
smile with your soul.

I know it hurts,
it does, of course,
after all
there's a war in your soul,
but, I tell you,
it's only your demons falling
the good in yourself is the one with the glory.

It's confusing, your legs are still weak
but slowly you'll forget about crawling
and start walking instead.

It takes time, you know
after living in the dark
it's hard to get used to the light
but you'll see
your eyes will stop hurting
and with the moon they'll shine
in the highest skies.

I know it's scary
and you only want to hide
you feel you're fading
but trust me when I tell you:
*You are not dying,
you're coming back to life.

I can tell my secrets to the paper and it won't betray me

I can write my soul into the ink and I won't, misportrayed, be

A strong desire of mine is this:

To meet people like ink and paper is my wish