It's sad i know that i can have it
I advice your mind but now it's blinded
Your heart so nice and good to me
Your soul so precious
It is not all i see
Messed up i know i can't retreat
Us two one hurts it is not me

I still write you love letters.
Love letters to your ghost.
Somebody that I might have known once
but view only as a stranger in a crowd of familiar faces.
I still write these love letters for nobody.
All about you.
The nothingness.
The emptiness.
An untitled painting.
An overused quote.
Unattributed.
Maybe I still write about the girl that I fell in love with in the sixth grade.
Or maybe I still write about the girl I cried about in high school.
Or maybe I'm writing about a girl that shares miles between me in the same bed.
Some small thing with fiery hair. No. Maybe brunette.
Tall. Definitely. Thighs and an ***.
Tired eyes. Green.
No. Brown.
I'm still writing about you.
A love letter for somebody that cares.
Somebody that realizes my words are all I have.
That doesn't brush them away.
Annoying. A crowd of gnats.
My words are for you.
For whomever will take them.

Tears of joy, tears of the beauty of love, tears of dreams and wishes for the future, tears for genuine hearts, tears for the bond that is needed for anything to be so powerful like this

I will whisper into a heart sewn shut.
My wishes and dreams so that this fabric
resonates with the ineffables of our love.
I'll hope that with every brush against stitched fabric, the wish is brought to life.

A small, simple wish: that the one I love,
whose claim is
my best,
most truest friend,
will feel that wave of intensely genuine passion.
vibrations channeled to a physical symbol
in hopes these wishes
deliberately
resound so that may she ever-
for the briefest of movements-
listen in to this seashell of a heart,
right in the uprush to experience:

a grandiosity the universe envies,
this galactic ocean of appreciation
born from a kaleidoscope of raindrops;
collected and formed from essences of you;

a soft, single wave to break upon her most delicate shore, feeling your toes in the tide.

you said your love was a fire

and suddenly i was willing to be burned

you said your love was an ocean

and suddenly i was willing to drown

you said your love was death

and suddenly i wished i was dead

-c

fires are red
and skies are blue
my feelings fade
along with you.

the sun rises
and the moon disappear
fear not darkness
just keep your mind clear.

one day, she said
'laugh with me'
i laughed along
i forgot my misery.

what if there is no backdrop
i mean it could all be the central story, right?
i've called weaker plotlines boring and stronger ones interesting
and now when i see the story stretched out
not only over the course of my life
but through the tapered and weaving lives
of circles and slopes
of color and dreary bland borders

i see

i am compelled

it fills me

i was an artist
you were perfect
now I'm a worker
and you're confused
and the mess is better than any straight line ever drawn

we write and dance,
we share so selfishly,
like everything is ours to give

To the top, they arose
Avoiding every obstacles
They recieved, many applause
Preaching to hit the skulls

Why do you create monsters?
And try to establish the lies?
Why rule the world with errors?
Then blame it on the others?

I want to place my head
on your chest and
feel your heart race forever.

- Crimsyy♡


Something I did yesterday (26/9/16)..
and it was the most wonderful feeling in the world. Some things and some people are worth staying alive for.