Our distance is a but an illusion
To you who feels pain
‘tis nothing but a pain of withdrawal from the fiend of my presence.
Wash me with snow, hail and water
maybe then, I'd feel pure
maybe then, my cravings would crawl away
maybe then, my sins would sway away
and perhaps then I could unstitch my lips
and let out the years held of silence
the writing is difficult.
We feel so much
yet so little to write
so much thoughts but difficult to put in words
Heavy are the eyes that can't get enough of you
looking at her looking at me
The moons greetings have come to separate us
. + * ★ *
· . ˚ ✷ ·. . *
+ . .
★ I never believed in magic but that changed when we locked eyes.
. . . *
* ˚ *. ✷ .
Today a tree was stripped naked
the autumn wind cleansed the streets from its gloomy expressions.
like never before
the sky is filled with joyous poems
for the unheard
The art of touch
feels like the galaxies colliding
where even in the wild
you feel safe