across yellow fields across yellow moon where is the island I am about long ago forgotten him often I stopped by a long time ago on it on this island where there was all absolutely where were all mine dreams and was i there last time when i was five years old when i was I rested among the many beds there were lots of beds and lots strange feelings strange i felt and already then understood that my life one huge solid photo or same just a collection of poems not more and no less I already felt that I will feel the future and I understood and knew always and always because from my very birth my eyes they are dead man my eyes ghost dark eyes
We used to say in the beginning how it felt like such a dream. Though, somehow somewhere along our journey, it turned into a nightmare. The memories of us together, I’ve now hidden. Yet, I know where to find them and sometimes I find myself flipping through an album of moments captured in time, a reminder that at one point it was most definitely a dream and not just a night terror.
Almost asleep when my phone ticked; 'A notification,' it says. Your name was there, you liked my photo. And my stomach drowned in butterflies-- Scratch that--moths, surely they're moths. Stronger, buzzier, like your power To occupy and stay in my brain With that single heart emoji beside your name. Thinking that the double tap Is as if you love me just the same.
Walking down the hall, The hall of memories, When I was happy and carefree. Every time I look at them, I wish I could go back and relive them. Relive the best moments in life because ever since I was 8, my happiness was ruined.
I walk down the hall and look at every single photo. I try to remember that day in which that photo was taken, and when I do remember, I space out and start crying because I know that I will never be that happy again.
When I get to the photo of a baby picture, I stop and think, what an innocent little body and face, I wonder what it would be like if my innocence wasn't taken.
This is me letting go...falling slowly from the cliff of selfish desire, into the cool and clearness of the conscience below.
Of you and my desire for you...this is me letting go.
From the Sleepless Feet Collection.
A wise man said...that every seed dies before it grows. And so then it becomes...is what love remains therein enough to let them go? To relinquish what you want...I think so.
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have you've ever taken that one candid picture so pure and precious there's a difference between a photo that is staged and perfect and a picture that no one knew was taken in that one picture, no one is trying so hard to be perfect
