we grew up together playing house, i remember one night you called me your king and i called you mine. it was nothing but a growing, childhood love. my star projector let us count stars on my bedroom ceiling until we were old enough to sneak out, lay on park benches and count the ones in the sky. our heads touching each other was the only thing that could help me fall asleep. time never stopped for us, even if it did feel like it when we held hands, we grew taller and eventually, not even the warmth of my arms was enough for you. we grew up and apart. i waited for you one summer night on that bench, closing my eyes, pretending my hand touching the tip of my head was yours. the sun began to rise and you never came. i dreamt that you came and we counted the stars again. i wanted to count your eyelashes again and see how many galaxies your eyes held again, but i couldn't. everything has faded again and the only time i see you now is when i close my eyes.
inspired by nap of a star by txt.
the song itself is beautiful and inspired me to write this piece, which is now a favorite piece i've written.
their faces became so familiar that i started to feel like i've known their face for my whole life, even before this lifetime. thank god they're here. without them, i wouldn't be here to write or love.
I don’t fear getting lost in your eyes, I fear getting lost in your voice. I see myself in those eyes and I see my home. Your voice, though- it can swallow me whole with all your little words and I would never return.
Our relationship, deeper than any pizza base. Our love, saucier than the finest italian passata. Our feelings stronger than the maturest of fine cheeses. Our willingness to please the other stretches such as the most glorious of mozzarella.
To what do we base our feelings upon, Be it the interchangable toppings or the structural integrity of the strongest crust.
Akin to snowflakes no two pizzas are ever alike. Each one differing to the last, be it the char marks on it's peak or the flame kissed bottom.
Our choice in toppings may differ so vastly, you with your ghastly pineapple and myself with my overly rich and greasy bbq meatfeast. Alas does this mean anything at all? Nothing but a matter of opinion, toppings change to peoples liking, but our bases remain the same our sauce the binding glue to hold it all together.
I dream about you too much Sometimes I loose myself in those dreams I imagine the way you breathe As you would lay next to me I dream about How your smile makes me feel I dream about What your voice sounds like And how your laugh is music too my ears I dream about The way you think And what your eyes see I dream about Tracing my fingertips Along your freckles and marks But I remind myself That you wont be there when I wake up And I guess that's why I'm so afraid of the dark.