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Umi Feb 2018
The nightsky is alike a mighty mansion of the stars which then
twinkle in elegance, beauty and transience until the dawn outshines them in a graceful manner.
As the night turns away from the sun and from her light, danger
in our imagination could await, from the corners of our very mind.
Yet the stars make up a soft blanket, a cover of the calmest of light,
which could bring peace to a soul which is performing a rampage.
All the constilations, all the names and forms which reveal themselves, are but a heavenly spectra for those who are nocturnal.
Or for those, whom have meet the cruel fate to be allergic to the natural, straight forward, warming and blissful sunlight.
There is no soul with no protector, in the nightsky such would be
a bright,piercing star, standing proud,manifest its location is over you
Holding many wonders, the beauty of the night comes with shooting stars, which at times shortly sweep over the heaven before fading.
Wishes are made upon, hope fills their hearts, for a better future
or a fulfilment of their desires, tangled up within the depth of mind.
Night becomes bright once the moon shines, in its fullest posture.
Becomes dark once the rainclouds drive near, calling in thunder.
But most importantly, it is a time of rest, from all this earth beholds


~ Umi
kyla goodson Jan 2019
A wave rushes over me when he smiles, yet I can breath better than I have in years.
I can't quite explain the why's to him, or myself for that matter, but I feel they'll work their way into the equation.
Like right now, I'm laying here writing about the man sleeping next to me. Instead of wrapping my arms back around him, I pour my soul into words to discover what it is about his man that has me writing in the first place.
I'm not so cliché to simply say his smile, his arms wrapped around me, his kind eyes.
There's so much more to it.
Behind his smile lies truth of his past, with smiles come hurt, come pain.
It's not just the embrace thats got me, it's the way he pulls me closer while he sleeps but doesn't remember it later. The way he knows when I need touch and when to simply breath with me.

The way his moles run constilations from his ear to shoulder, while his heart beat beats life into them.
Death-throws Mar 2015
I like to look up
not down
when i look down i see the curves of my toes
those bent beams called bones
and the scars on my hips nestled against the soft mink of your sleeping bag but looking up..
twinkling softly above me
fairy lights in a Christmas store,
sprinkles on my donuts
white beacons to space pirates
the stars shine
bleating there twinkling beams like butterfly's kisses on my cheek
their glow is not lost against my skin
warmer then the sun i find them,
especially with you pulled so tightly against me
the warmth of your chest against my *******
your thigh pressed between mine
my scars fade in the dull light,
my toes dont feel so crooked
and when i lie under the back-lit-black-backed canopy of our stars
i can carve your name between the constilations
and even though the light has shone for thousands of miles
and my heart lies in the sky
when i crawl into your sleeping bag.
you bring the universe to my thoughts
and fish my heart back from the moon
*LG
i wrote this for a special friend :3 have a wonderful evening beautiful x

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