He thought it would take another mountain
One taller than the last
But covered in ice
Frozen with images of his past
Would it be another fairy tale about love
Or a story yet to be told but one that needed to be said
But straight talk was what she wanted
So he had to remove the confusion from his head
It was about making a decision
It was about making a mistake
What time in his life was it ever exactly right?
He always seemed to speak one second too late
But he knew he had to stay up all night
The plan was to go anyway
Sleep was not something that would cooperate
He didn’t want to just dream about what he would say
It was a word that he knew so well
It was a word she was ready to believe
Every slippery step stared back at him without remorse
But his heart told him this time he would never leave

We are
absolutely
toxic
for each other,
but I
don't mind.

Maybe if you throw me at the bottom of an ocean I’ll be deep again, or maybe if you throw me up so high I’ll finally fly. Poor can be lack of feelings, poor can be lack of expression, poor can be lack of understanding and poor can be me. Sadness can be sometimes blue, sadness can also paint you black even if your roots are golden.
It’s okay. You don’t need to always shine. It takes special people to see your blaze and it would be preferable if they’re blind. Not necessarily visually impaired, but devoid of light. Maybe they’ll tell you that you’re not as poor and can actually make them feel something. It’s scary when you carry nostalgia for a specific thing that you have no eye sight for. No eye sight except at the back of your mind.

The burning desire for something that is unknown is like searching for something invisible with the naked eye. I feel naked, naked and so full of everything.
I am driven by notion.
I’ll be merged with the darkness.
I’ll be surging with the waves.
You’ll feel me in the gentle breeze,
Smell me between the leaves after rainfall,
and you won’t be as petrified to take one step closer.