promises of love
we believe we are grown
but inside of us
just under the surface
is a child wanting to be comforted
to be loved
so we hide this part of us
the colours in our mind slowly dying
because they say to keep something maintained you
must nourish it
but the nourishment we need
and this makes our palettes grey
resorting to unorthodox versions of what we need
crutches and supports
that people refuse to speak about
the childhood friend
that moved away
when you were young
unable to cohere as to why
they couldn't stay
wrapped in the dreamland
of explosive joy
she dreams of him at night
under the covers
silent beautiful moans
escape her parted lips
as her dainty fingers
linger to the most
precious part of her
slowly moving in and out
imagining it's him
touching her all over
she closes her eyes
picturing his rough
large hands roaming
all over her petite body
her breath hitches
her toes curl
her stomach knots
all because of him
- wet dreams
It's a nightmare,
an end to a dream
A constant seek
for a togetherness
of you and me.
in the gray space
between what is
meant to be
How strange... I love the sound of us even when you are not. I love how you are not.
Maybe the fact that you are not is what hurts me the most but I still love it.
Because when you are not,
I am not.
And oh, how marvellous it feels to drift into non existance before my heart starts beating.
There was that changing moment
When every second was fleeting
When your hand dropped for the last time
And when my heart took a stop
In that white-colored room with bare sunlight to catch
Machines all over you and chords on your hand
That moment when you gave out your last smile
Closed your eyes never to open
I awoke with a terrible nightmare
And I held you tightly so you wouldn’t leave
You wondered why I was acting so weird
It’s just that I keep forgetting
We regret the things we couldn’t hold onto
Because when it’s gone there’s no way for it to come back to you.
You share my blood, yet for so long
We never quite saw eye to eye.
You still grasped my hand and held it.
You never let go.
A twin, I suppose, is what you are.
A mirror image of me, a dream-self.
In a richer life. One full of lustrous adventures.
Marching down a cobblestone street;
Sipping sweet secrets in a foreign land;
Fighting the enemy, calling out in triumph.
Perhaps you are a lesson, maybe a vision.
One that beckons me to go further.
Calls to keep growing. Becoming.
For four fervent years
We have shared our hearts, every fiber of our soul
Has bled into each others veins.
And when the day comes, please know
I love you with a fever that’ll never break.
I've wondered time and time again what the world must look like to an artist. Especially nature.
I get lost in the clouds when I stare too long..
sometimes, most times I hate myself for not having the words to explain what's in my head.
If I tried to describe how the sun feels on my skin or,
flying above the clouds looking down,
I just don't have the words..
A blanket covering the earth I would say or a warmth I wish to touch. I don't have words I say..
I wish I did know though so I could share my exact feelings with whoever is accepting.
Some day I wish to use my words as a paint brush, maybe then I would be considered an artist too.
Born to think,
but I know no more
than I used to, I just must
love to waste my time.
Born to dream,
but I ain't no closer to
making it real.
No, making it real is hard.
What is this adding up to?
How do you
Keep from living wrong?
Born to see the good,
even when others
don't see it in us.
We love to waste our time
So what is this adding up to?
How do you
Keep from living wrong?
I want to know better
What this life is teaching
I've known it all along
How to keep from living wrong.