I hear voices
I fear

Voices in my head

But really
It’s the real voices

I fear
Real peoples voices

Are what I’m scared of

You are an orchestra
I am the instruments
And our love is a symphony
It’s so loud and so overwhelming
The strings of my heart are weak
But ever so piercing, because your touch is rosin
Your skin meeting mine tunes my body
And your hand on the bow of my violin
My hands on the keys of your piano
Is tranquility
And my voice from another planet
Not cutting through, but uniting with yours
Creates the most beautiful harmony
A harmony that pushed new air into my lungs
Detoxed my veins
And brings my heart back
Back to key
Back to life
Back to our symphony.

I needed reassurance
To believe
In everything I knew

I did it once
I did it twice
I did it often

It became usual
Now I doubt if anyone means it
I need reassurance again

It's like a drug
A drug I'm getting addicted to
And I hate it

Written by; Fildaus Umutoniwase.

this place
is ours
a secret
place
where
raindrops
settle on
closed eyes
making
tears that
fall upon
open pages
a place
beyond time
forever held
in memory
where we
exist only
for eachother

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

How it is possible for only the sound
of your voice to send me from
sorrowful and stressed to a calming sea,
I'm not entirely sure.
Perhaps it's the softness in which you speak,
Like the gentle breeze weaving through
the sound of the waves
Or the way you're equally as nervous.
I don't know,
But what I do know is that my calming
influence said to be given to you,
Is also bestowed from you upon me.

      — admiration.

I'm afraid that, at one point or another, I'm
going to force myself to stop feeling this
way about you,
As I have done many times before with
others.
It correlates to the feeling of rejection and
hurt,
Enabling me to run away from my own
fears with my cowardice anxiety by my
side,
Gripping tightly to my hand and furthering
away from you.

                                              Whilst there, at this new home and safety
                                                          ­                                               of mine,
                                          A woman asked me of why I'd run. Why I'd
                                                        used up energy to escape a lovingly
                                                        ­                                   positive feeling.
                                                        ­      And created it to be a bad thing.
                                             I explained to her my past, and how it has
                                                          mad­e me fearful of a future in that
                                                            ­                                             regards.
                                                        ­                  She showed me a garden,
                                                        C­olours strikingly bright to the eye,
                                                            ­   Buzzes coming from the insect's
                                                        ­                                            excitement
          ­                                And I'd noticed, within a large group of red
                                                             ­              roses, there laid a yellow
                                                          ­                  Leant against a red rose.
                                                           ­             I asked her, why only one?
                                                      And why within the midst of all red?
                                              She told me she'd painted it, for whatever
                                              reason she wasn't sure, and she was quite
                                                   certain it was slowly killing the flower.
                                        She asked me which I had noticed first, and I
                                               told her the yellow, to which she replied:
                                                   "Out of a large group of red, your eyes
                                                            ­  focused on the yellow. Out of all
                                             negatives, my dear, you should only focus
                                                           ­                              on the positives."
                               "Of course," she added. "Only in these situations."

As cliché as it sounds,
You are consuming my dreams.
And as much as I hate it,
And I wish for you to leave my mind,
I can't really do much else about it other than
accept it and deal with it.

It is my subconscious mind that is allowing
you in,
Letting you create your home in there
and place posters up on the walls of my
brain which you are making your living space.

I dreamt sorrow of you,
I have dreamt contempt
And I've dreamt of love.
All of which had me ****** up in the
morning and throughout the days
afterwards.

And part of me wonders if it's the same for
you,
And if not then how you do it.
How you're able to keep me out of your
mind because I wish to know answers.
I just don't want you occupying my brain
space any longer,
I'm unable to think of anything without
your name or being having an involvement.
I don't like the way that this feels.
I thought I would but I don't.
I'm sick of false pretense in the things I
want to be real.