#lemony
Like a cool breeze which weaves itself through the willow oaks,
So does this subtle sound cut deep through me.
Wavering on a different kind of bow,
Reverberating the ink below into a different kind of note.
So much so that when I hear the sound of the rustling leaves,
I dare not sleep, without a smile inquisitorial.
Not that sleep was an option amongst the trees,
But I digress
And with conclusions leave.
To forget the song of you for awhile, until you return once more,
Rustling as you please.
Aug 30, 2018
Aug 30, 2018 at 3:43 PM UTC
"Everyone, at some point in their lives, wakes up in the middle of the night with the feeling that they are all alone in the world, and that nobody loves them now and that nobody will ever love them, and that they will never have a decent night's sleep again and will spend their lives wandering blearily around a loveless landscape, hoping desperately that their circumstances will improve, but suspecting, in their heart of hearts, that they will remain unloved forever. The best thing to do in these circumstances is to wake somebody else up, so that they can feel this way, too."
Apr 25, 2014
Apr 25, 2014 at 1:33 PM UTC