I sleep on sheets covered in beer and carry boxes of bottles to the trash room, boxes and sheets and smells that could get me in trouble with the people who wear uniforms And I put my head on the shoulder beside me and everything is sweat and stale alcohol and three am and I was supposed to do more homework tonight. I was supposed to get more done and go to bed so much earlier. But here I am, tired and lying beneath Kenyan blankets, atop Blue Moon covers, lightly taking your phone off your chest and setting it away as you slip into sleep beside me Here I am, bringing you trash bags I bought with my own money, carrying a box of illegalities I didn’t drink to the recycling, leaning into your flanneled embrace in the Sunday morning quiet of the hallway
I will take care of you, no questions asked I will always take care of you
Before sleep’s waves, in the dark, holding my hand to yours and telling you that I am here to talk— and knowing you will never take me up on it. Asking you questions because it’s my job, and you say I do it too well, and we both know that that avoids the question in the first place.
I will take care of you, asked questions unanswered It is 3 am on a Sunday, and I will take care of you Always.
The moment our eyes met I knew you were it With the way you silenced My deafening mind with just A look at your face The way your smile lit up the empty space And your eyes had shown me the sky When our hands first intertwined I felt the That I had never felt before When you first said I love you Your eyes watered with tears My heart warmed at the sight I could not describe The love I felt for you That night When we laid in our bed Your hair would fall And I would brush it away As I memorized your beauty And I knew that I never wanted to forget Such a breathtaking face The moment our eyes met My mind was a disturbing mess You were wearing a yellow dress And I knew you were My quiet in a loud world
I've decided to keep a sort of journal.... Telling you all about what happens in my life as a Middle-Schooler. I call it...The Apocalypse Follow me to stay up-to-date on when i post these. Can you help me survive...The Apocalypse? --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Day 1 It's Sunday, tomorrow we go back to school...hopefully. We've had multiple days off due to weather. Im beginning to wonder if we will ever go back. I MIGHT DIE IF I DON'T TALK TO SOMEONE SOON Please...send help. (And send someone to do my homework)
On the hills of old Dublin the wind blows from the east On the hills of old Dublin we gather for a feast On the hill of old Dublin stands a village with ladies so fair On the hills of old Dublin the priest stands in prayer For we are the chosen... For we hold the crest For the solders of old Dublin will always be oppressed On the hills of old Dublin we lay them to rest On the hills of old Dublin forever will they be blessed The brave sons of Dublin whose voices are gone The brave sons of Dublin with battle lines drawn The brave sons of Dublin whose courage is known The brave sons of Dublin who stand as stone
A cheer to the fallen...a cheer to their name...for the solders of England is who are to blame. A sip of old whisky... a sting in the throat...for every glass emptied is another line wrote.
a melody whispered, it was beautiful and not blistered. a deep song, through my ears you sang. ~ how wonderful it was, to hear your voice. soft and smooth. the song has a nice message too. ~ remained. the lyrics it had. a beautiful memory. happened on a sunday morning.