Tonight I’ll dream of lavender
Of fields filled with flowers
And a boy with ocean blue eyes
Who keeps his promise when he says he’ll never hurt me

It’s only at night that I allow myself to think of you
You are my filthiest thoughts
Of nights filled with laughter
Stolen kisses and sideways glances
I think about how badly I want you to touch me

Touch my hand in a dark room
Squeeze my knee in the car
Brush your fingers against my spine when we’re shopping
I don’t care what you do as long as you mean it

Tonight you’ll tell me that you love me
I’ll wake up before I get to answer
The sun shining through my blinds,
a reminder of what will never be

In my dreams you ask to kiss me
Your voice thick like honey
I say yes, sweet as sugar
I wake up and still feel the ghost of your lips on mine

Tonight I’ll beg for a nightmare
Anything to keep you off of my mind
I can’t keep loving you deeply
Breaking my own heart is a daily occurrence
I don’t have enough in me to keep from falling apart

You are my pink skies with candy floss clouds

My open fields flooded far and wide with cherry blossoms

and green feathered sparrows singing tunes of your favourite songs that sound kinda-something-sorta like your voice,

The walls in my castle populated perfectly with portraits of you

and you already know portraits are my favourite.

Somehow my imagination bound beautifully with my reality such that I could tell no difference.

You are my Utopia.

But utopia is subject to interpretation.

You like candy floss occasionally, pink is not your favourite colour and I do not even know what your favourite flower is

Without forgetting to mention, you prefer beaches.

You like puns, peaches, foxes and fairies but my world has none of that, I want to accept those but you will not have it any other way.

I want our worlds to collide but in a more subtle way, but when that kinda thing happens it is almost always apocalyptic

So, what is yours will never be mine and what is mine you do not even want at all.

My utopia sounds like it belongs in a book, but we all know how long that lasts.




*Be sure to check out Utopian Dystopia Pt. 2!

When the notification light blinks
There's a little hope that it's you missing me
When I'm down with cold
There's a little hope you'd wonder what happen to me
When you smile so brightly
There's a little hope it's for me
When you stop and stare
There's a little hope that I'm in your frame
When we practice together
I either do bad on purpose with a little hope i can held your hand longer
or really good with hope that you'll praise me
When we talk just a random things
There's a tiny hope that you'll know what i feel
But what can a little hope do
When i know I'm not the one for you

At nineteen I allowed myself
To break my own heart
How silly I was to believe little girls could fall in love
But then you were there

When you tried to talk to me I couldn’t speak
Anytime I tried daisies bloomed out of my mouth

On New Year’s Day you became a gardener
You plucked away the green vines that grew from my tongue
Soon after there was a flower patch inside of my ribs

But charity love only lasts for so long
Eventually you’ll grow tired of grooming someone else’s garden
I mistook friendship for love
The look in your eyes was never longing
Now my flowers are wilting

When flowers die they decompose
Becoming the foundation for new life
By sacrificing themselves to winter
They pave the path to growth

You made me a flower garden
This winter I will let myself die
and when spring comes I will bloom again
I’ve never been so thankful to be broken

The old woman ran a leathery hand through her cropped hair.
"Yes, you may weep for the fields of green, as they were gorgeous yet thought to be boring."
She rocked back and forth and her wrinkled face contorted into a smile for the first time in the conversation.
"You may always cry for the tulip fields as they were devastatingly beautiful yet loathed."
And yet, as soon as her face had lit up like a thousand suns, it was once again devoid of expression.
"But, nonetheless, reserve your pity for those that loved he or she that burned out,
for every lover of Icarus knows that it is better to be hated than to go unnoticed."