And it sweeps over me like a charmed dimmed veil.
Providing me shade and stealing my breeze.
Keeping me fresh in my misery.
Prolonging my grief.
Hiding my tears and my wicked smirk.
I am the bride of my own shadow, loneliness.
My reception, the demons that haunt me.
My cake the lump in my throat.
Open bar of my tears.
And I'll make my speech honoring my weakness as my best friend.
I'm a bride and failure is my groom.
What a couple we make, all of darkness will rave.
For I am sad and angry.
Me and my groom shall create such destruction in our wake.
I will make it rain, thunder and quake.
With my groom as long as he stays.

i fell in love with a boy with dark blonde hair and the most beautiful blue green eyes ive ever seen in my life

his smile is so bright that i swear he is a star
he is the sun in my galaxy

his laugh is as warm homemade chicken noodle soup;
so comforting, so nice you could cry

maybe it's a stretch to say that i'm in love
with the way he cheers up the people around him,
taking their hands and leading them into a world
where you can feel safe and finally be yourself
instead of wearing fake masks of happiness in order to protect those around you
from the hurricane you house inside

but even years of depression later,
a simple five minutes with him makes me feel immeasurable happiness

what's his secret?

if only jealousy didn't get the best of me

i wonder why i lie in bed,
daydreaming about a boy i wish i could have
but may never have

i wonder why i can never collect the courage
to just grab his hands
or hold his face and kiss him softly

i wonder why i'm so afraid of ruining our friendship and telling him how i really feel
when i so deeply just want to be his love

i wonder what he would say
if i asked him to stay in my life forever?

You're on my mind
Not quite sure why
But I feel like I want to die
With you inside, corrupting my mind
There's no where to hide
From what I'm feeling inside
Trying my best not to rest
Until I'm the very best
Making you mine
Reclaiming my mind
Proving to the rest
That I'm nothing less •••
God bless

I am waiting for that day,
The day when everything makes sense,
So many days alone,
Too few days of content.

Waiting till my thoughts,
All my experiences,
Come together,
To feel more complete than any day before

Sunlight streams through trees
Kissing the soft chocolate ringlets strewn across
his cheeks
They lay together,
a blanket beneath them
and the bluest sky, beautiful overhead.

Her breath steals
a question
from his eyes;
warm, green pools of heaven.
And he leans upward to capture
her answer
with his softly loving lips.

And there they remain;
lost yet found
swimming in each other's souls
till the sunlight fades
and their love is written by constellations.

The past is such an interesting notion.
Events and moments transpire.
Then seemingly.
Vanish.
Yet we collect them.
Hold them close.
Or far.
Attaching some form of meaning to them.
These memoirs can guide.
Inhibit.
Transfix.
Suffocate.
And any number of other descriptions to wield.
In many ways.
The time after.
Are just duplicates of the latter.
With placed meaning that's "different".
Archived seperately.
So much irrelevant information.
What can our history books truly retain when perspective is so...
Objective.
We are a society hell bent on understanding what was.
Constantly walking past what is.
And lamenting what will be.
Making it truly a wonder.
That any of us.
Are present.
At all.

Skies stretch sparks to light the damp ground
And I watch, chuckling by the lambs
Lapping the waves that smack tastily at their feet
And bring in the harvest for the day.

The sun bows its head
And sea makes its sleep
For it to hide amongst the bubbles
Until the Night claps it awake.

Footprints stretch up the beach made
Of arrowheads and other cobbled things
You're there, you're there
Pulling me to your place.

Warm, shivering houses, of
Wooden overcoats and salty lashings
Made wind by fervent tides
Desperate to huddle in and hear stories

Of your uncle, your father, your brother's ruddy cheeks,
But you have eyes with me
And we lend them together to the fire
To hear of orcs, of brochs and angry kings, far away.

The howling streets meet no one,
And pirates prowl their decks to see
A glimpse of my island girl
As she holds my arm cased in wool

Blond hair crying to the floor.

For I am a story, you see, I know what I have when I have it
And salt, quiet lamp-lit salty living
Make ancient ages while keeping,
The mainland for themselves.

Good thing I have her,
So I can share in what she calls home
So I can lie in the lavender in Summer
And cry with the Winter rain when she's gone.