"occurrences" poems
I.
The heart is clumsy,
our thoughts provoking disaster
when pulling on the wrong strings
before the storm, and after.
II.
You
and I,
encompass the sky
that hovers above us
holding clouds that serve purpose
to embellish or destroy
waiting for the wind
to mould us into strange shapes
tugging at others’ curiosity
not knowing what we are
or where we’re going.
III.
Muffled speech,
blinding weather in his eyes,
today we are not raining together
drop by drop
He falls and changes,
beauty into anger,
I await on a lonely ground
to catch him.
IV.
We exist in all shades,
unpredictable,
beautiful,
converging into one another
calming the anxious souls
that we transport to the heavens above.
V.
I watch the sun and moon alternate,
natural occurrences, I notice
just like the thoughts
that feel like clouds in my head
when my heart reminds me
of him
at an ungodly time of night
striking me like lightening,
thunder echoing between these ears
that long for the voice of an angel instead.
Sep 29, 2014
Sep 29, 2014 at 4:32 PM UTC
a cerebral grasping of existence’s resplendence
is insufficient
tenuously treading bereavement’s tide
i cradle life
twinkling moments spent on this planet
are hallowed time
i walk in quiet reverence as tears flow
at innocuous occurrences
god’s face aglow in each instance
perspective revived
a bumblebee drifting gently settles
evoking awe
i stand pensive aforetime unaware
in cathedrals we stand
eyes newly uncovered awakened discover
celestial dimensions
people replete with infinite spirit
are all that surround
my senses abruptly adjusting their focus
‘tis an earthly angelic realm
©2016janetaylor
May 19, 2016
May 19, 2016 at 6:42 AM UTC
Can't sleep, it's always the same.
I get to my room, exhausted, lie in my bed,
Close my eyes and the Sleepless Fairy
decides to take the reins of the situation.
Maybe if I go to my computer and surf for a while
I could doze off. Maybe I'll go out and have a cigarette
to calm the Fairy. No, this insomnia is different. I can't fix it
with simple solutions.
This wakefulness is not due to the anxiety of an exam,
or the diffidence I have for that one girl I can't get out
of my head. This insomnia is that small sparkle of
uncertainty that has abounded my mind for a long time.
That feeling of vagueness, of yearning. Yearning of what?
I don't know.
It is simply that feeling that I'm missing something,
whatever it is. I go around the whole day in my mind,
what am I missing? What am I forgetting?
During the day I'm acquiescent, lucid, happy.
But come night... time to go to bed.
Time to perform the daily check for recent events.
Catalog the occurrences with different feelings,
accommodated to their respective memories.
But there's something missing.
I curse the Fairy and its 1001 tricks that keep me
awake and conscious about that which is in the
subconscious.
Will the day come when the Fairy shows up no more?
As long as that feeling is housed in me, like a parasite
clogged on its new victim, the Fairy will keep visiting.
Mar 29, 2013
Mar 29, 2013 at 9:19 PM UTC
The drug
The high
The confusion
The craving
The withdrawal
The brain feels overwhelmed
The noise creates chaos in my mind
The silence I seek
The alone time I need
The anxiety kicks in
Struggling to breathe...
Overthinking creates an addiction, to the things that cause mind suppression.
My mind is noisy, with thoughts of occurrences that have happened, and some not.
I try not to depress myself, but mistakenly think too far in the future, then get disappointed because expectations have not been reached.
Busy, distracted, chaotic, and unfocused.
I reach no end to where my mind goes...
A path of little thoughts that creates an explosion and downfall.
I crave the drugs to give my mind a rest.
To give it a sense of peacefulness...
I have failed lifes tests.
Tense, tight, my mind implodes.
Burn my thoughts and bury them in ashed coal.
Cannot sleep
Cannot close my eyes
Always in a state of overthinking...
Like my brain is constantly blinking
Nov 7, 2016
Nov 7, 2016 at 10:00 AM UTC
Distant learning courses in the heart
Irrelevant actions have left us all apart
Acquisitions decaying those stray minded people
It's no longer a commonplace to feel peaceful
Simultaneous occurrences have our mind in disarray
Through our pasts they begin to replay
All these calamitous activities brought through maleficent eyes
Disintegrate what's left sending us in a fools paradise
We reap to elope from these rigorous bearings we call home
Only to find ourselves cast away into the unknown
We strive to survive in a world full of abhorrence
Being seen transparent just as worthless corpses
Those few who prevail are not left without detriment
They are forever severed a mental delinquent
**Nevertheless our story lives on
In this godforsaken marathon**
-Joseph B Schneider
Nov 2, 2014
Nov 2, 2014 at 12:38 PM UTC
mean beam bottom ***** without reluctance.
\\ air above \\
since forever baby boy: since forever liquid sparkler.
he has sense
& peanut butter jelly geography to his page.
his romance is of the west.
his eyes are of dandelions kicked & to the wind.
he moves like ancient turtle migration.
reaches feet to sidewalk \\ sand to depths \\ ride \\
night:
velcro-tightened mind withstanding.
party lights, ***** willows, retro punch, he
is orpheus descending: with all the elements positioned just so.
\\ jellyfish electric \\
he says he likes the loneliness.
he says it’s the water.
& so he moves \\ wills himself into the next measure.
liquid resolute bits.
so move \\ orca \\
curl of eye \\ so ride \\ black rollo wave \\
basilica \\ & \\
coral reaches below \\\\\
he likes to tell it, with warmed exaggeration.
slow-motion buffalo stampede. ride the railroads free & easy.
orange glowing bars of elsewhere. oscillating seal calls.
oily portland hipsters howling on the beach. those
juno cheeked rosy-red lips.
somewhere, sister getting married.
spring, summer, fall, winter, spring.
africa girl on a branch of a tree of a forest, overlooking elephant burial grounds.
color & white material:
plantations, gas stations, diners, & sharks.
this is the morning lunar \\
sweet blue beach of the old & awakening.
he crawls out & into her breaks.
her deep heights & bombora reef. the serotonin
functions twice, exposed between thin tissues of warm-blooded neurochemistry.
human, shown.
he is as a raw page, blank, yet
dipped \\
\\ so ride \\ bulbous waves of air mother agua \\
ride \\ &
\\ ride \\ &
brew by light these occurrences forever.
Mar 28, 2014
Mar 28, 2014 at 4:41 AM UTC
Your touch closes my eyes
I let your words traumatise my mind
Your breath dampens my skin,
Provoking apocalyptic thoughts from within
The trickle of your touch
Is eating at my mind,
I keep your desires fed,
Thirst and hatred intertwined
Disrupting my insides
My lips escape discordant harmonies,
As in you I confide,
That the truth's foreign to my eyes
You remain my fixation
A sinister hallucination
Occurrences of formination
Are my self-rehabilitation
Apr 18, 2014
Apr 18, 2014 at 9:26 AM UTC
Why do we hurt.
Over such obvious human occurrences.
He and she.
Them and it.
Society tells us beauty lies within.
Yet we are unable to see true beauty.
Death come quick.
To the one who waits and hopes.
Death is beauty.
Jan 14, 2015
Jan 14, 2015 at 9:05 AM UTC
Thy velvety pink lining has revolted against thy most honorable wishes.
'tis now an angry, burning red!
Much like the doomy pits of hell!
And hell is how one should describe thee.
But why? Why doth thy choose such a path?
could one have followed an alternate?
will thy destiny have changed?
Explosions as mighty as all the worlds volcanoes
oozing pain, thy knees tremble like an earthquake
One can no longer enjoy the purity of ones skin
One can no longer live carefree
If kept a secret, thy shall be no different than a murderer!
A soothing touch.
Although, the rain hath left no moisture.
The grounds crack and ache for a new rain to fall.
Thou shalt not ponder such occurrences...for will it come?
One has high hopes.
As high as the heavens.
Aug 29, 2010
Aug 29, 2010 at 4:06 PM UTC
Sometimes I feel pretty
or cute
or even beautiful
but those occurrences are very rare
for me
because I'm not pretty
or cute
or beautiful
and then you came along
and you started to tell me
how cute
how pretty
how beautiful
I am
but I never believed you
because I knew you were lying
but you kept telling me
how cute
how pretty
how beautiful
I am
and I started to look
at myself differently
when I walked past the mirror
but I never thought
I was
cute
or pretty
or beautiful
Dec 8, 2012
Dec 8, 2012 at 10:49 PM UTC
Freedom of choice, can never be
Rather, a designed destiny
With
Accidents, default settings by design
Coincidences, planned occurrences in time
Surroundings, attracted by rhyme
Then what, is the influence of time?
A matrix known, to only a few
The rest a drift, never knew
Only filling gaps, for the few
Like sheep, alive in meadow
On man’s command, they go
Slaughter sheering feeding, they never know
So, do we really want them to row?
Do they want to row?
Do we actually harvest what we sow?
Or is it just, part of the flow?
Dec 24, 2009
Dec 24, 2009 at 11:57 PM UTC
Heed these words, write them upon the tablet of your mind for I have returned.
When you finally come to the point in your life and comprehend that the dreams with which you have been bestowed are to be used as a blueprint, you then and only then will win remarkable success in what ever calling that you adopt. You will begin to visualize things with a much greater understanding and you will experience sights stranger than you have ever seen before. You will know that these new visions are all true, for you will see that you have been given the ability to pick out and notice clusters of confirmations and on an imaginary scale. The fear of premonitions and ignoring notable occurrences by dismaying them all off as if they are just figments of your imagination is to be avoided. It is not out of random chance, the thought that things are bound to line up from time to time and for no apparent reason or that evolution had a major impact on us to evolve into begins to recognize pattern recognition, but rather, it is to be construed as if you have been blessed with the gift of foresight and you will notice that you are able to think and speak things into existence. Never again will you live with the fear of the unknown for you will know all. The truth of all things will manifest themselves and be disclosed to you in a vivid clear contrast. There will be many people who will find it extremely difficult to interpret what is being explained to them and in the process they will then start to display that they are trapped within there own gridlocked mind and be confused with just your mere presence. You will find that people who do not understand you will then try to get you to conform to what they see, ignore them. Life is but an enigma, one that is full of complex-ed riddles, when you accept to follow your dreams and with an open objective you will then have the opportunity to harness all its power and in return all the pieces of the puzzle will be spread out for you for your taking. Once you find the first piece, you then will be given the license required to take part of this phenomenon so you can complete life's grander picture found outside the ivory tower. You will know with all certainty that you are not dreaming and that what you are witnessing is not a mirage, that is until, the silver cord be loosed, after that, when death finds its way to sting and the grave can then claim its victory, welcome and accept a Re"quies'cat In Pa'ce.
As always, Welcome to the show!
Jan 7, 2015
Jan 7, 2015 at 11:05 AM UTC
Let me paint you a picture
Using nice long strokes
And beautifully vivid colors
And as with most works of art
My muse is the tale of two lovers
Plus one, two, three
Or was it four others
I seem to have lost count
With re-occurrences and all
And their masks seem to blur
As I get lost in our thrall
I tell you love is like a sun
Beautiful to look at
But will blind you
If you stare just a little too long
Unable to see a single mistake
When everything is going wrong
So I paint over the visages
Of him, him, her, and him
But the paint is just not thick enough
How could it be?
When the stain of betrayal
Isn’t quite painted, but carved
When the knives in the back
Sink through to the heart
And while it’s true
That the color of apology
Works well as a cover-up
Only time truly hides scars
And that’s what you wanted
Wasn’t it
Was time apart?
But it’s just not right
That you got to make that call
Without even a fight
You just want to call it a night
So go ahead and sketch the dark
And I will paint the stars
Because that’s what we are
Memories mirrored in paint
From the nights
Where you cried and I kissed you
To the days
Where our phone calls
Ended with I miss you
And I know
You’re not cursed with the memory
People think I’m blessed with
So let this serve to remind you
Of when times were best and
Then maybe you’ll feel some regret
Not the kind where watercolors
Stain your perfect portrait
I’m talking about life changing emotion
So that maybe there won’t be reprints
Sold at every corner auction
I want something hung in a museum
Something people would traverse
The world to see
And when they do
They don’t know what they feel
Because it’s hard to believe
That it’s even real
Seeing love with its contrast
And how you treated it
Like a contract
Made with an expiration date
Set even since our first date
When you gave me that brush
Inspiring me to paint
So that is what I did
And this is its masterpiece
And now
I guess I need a new brush
Feb 3, 2013
Feb 3, 2013 at 4:39 PM UTC
(AP) another tragic report today of snow mermaids resurfacing a phenomena of drastic blizzard conditions young men lost in blinding blowing winds that sends a person forging foreword then back a step are sightings of real or imagined snow nymphs naked gorgeous young women giggling frolicking through 8’ snow drifts arching limbs grinding hips twiddling fingers toes swaying long hair spreading thighs exposing privates pinching ******* pursing lips gesturing to be seduced beckoning into freezing snow entrapment eventually freezing victims into lifeless blue corpses only additional forensic evidence left behind are definite female snow angel signature tracks in surrounding snowfall areas since onslaught of February 1st storm strike 18 male bodies missing 13 bodies recovered all found grasping clutching clinging desirously to unknown source 5 men still missing if you suspect the whereabouts of any of these individuals please contact 911 authorities warn men of a certain age wear appropriate winter gear scarves raised hats lowered eyes squinting look away without delay if you think you are witness to one or more of these deadly snow mermaids GPS immediately to Police postscript in the several thousand years since these occurrences have been recorded not a single snow mermaid has ever been caught
Mar 3, 2011
Mar 3, 2011 at 1:22 PM UTC
When I reached in to clean off the glitter on your face,
Did your throat ache because of the unheard voice?
When I said: relax I won't kiss you
did the unheard voice say: "I wish you would!"?
This then music that was denied
All the times I didn't touch you,
did you shiver and get chills?
Did my wondrous breath caress your hairs then?
Did your follicles once wake?
Leading to yawning pores
Inviting the warmth,
of a touch, and the moist excretion of the connection
thereof
And your dry lips with lines dividing symbolizing the walls of your soul yet to be broken
and your bright eyes when the right words are spoken
Or the nerve-wrecking look that had me choking
I was myself and I truly was, maybe you thought I was joking
Was it the distance or questionable persistence?
The fear maybe, that had you critical of what you should feel
Perhaps the vicissitudes of fate that have a stationary couple reel
Or the gravity of occurrences, where I had to keep up appearances
Maybe just you. Maybe just me. Or the doubtful We.
In all reason; logical to think that perhaps the feel
that keeps me away from you
and you feeling like a slave when with me
if you believed and trusted, we could have eloped
Escaped the prison of doubt and insecurity, uplift the hope
Use the ladder of surrender
climb down the 'chance' rope
and then we'd elope
But you stayed with the other guy who says what you want to hear
who drives the car that has them cheer
who sports a profile that gives him credit
Never minding your heart's merit
I leave and enter the wild
I am a wolf from afar
And a die-hard romantic at heart
These are the melodies that live on
Unsung hymns of love lore
May they be heard deeply and penetrate as the sound of spores.
Mar 24, 2013
Mar 24, 2013 at 11:46 AM UTC
It was half past noon as Professor Lynch came barreling into the drive way in his hunt for the unknown. His actions so urgent he forgets to even close his car door. He sprints up his steps and swings the door open to his house and there it was.
Why was he is such a hurry? Well this goes back a little over a week prior when he had some guests over for the first time since he bought his new home. It was the day after he had finally unpacked the last box. This was a gathering to celebrate his new job as a History Professor at the University of California and his beautiful new home. The gathering was going as planned till he heard a strange noise coming from the basement.
The guests didn't hear this noise and continued having a great time as Lynch went downstairs to check it out. As he opened the back door he heard some things fall over as if an animal had skirmished to the noise of the door. As he continued down the stairs after this so called animal his heart about hit his stomach. He has a small door in his basement he figured was used for child’s play made by the family before him. So in his unpacking process he had left it alone. Well he could of sworn he seen the door **** to it turn. Too afraid to check it out on his own he ran upstairs. Trying not to embarrass himself he quickly ran up the stairs into the main room and continued the gathering as if nothing had happened.
Once the guests left he found himself sitting in his living room saying to himself “it was nothing, you’re just seeing things.” He talked himself into believing this because he hadn't slept much in a few days with all the unpacking trying to get ready for the new week. So he finally decided to go to bed and get some rest. It wasn't for another week till he had started to notice some strange occurrences. He came home from work that day and noticed his refrigerator was left open. Lynch however was uncertain on if it was him who left it open so he shrugged it off.
Another day had passed and again he came home from work and his refrigerator was open again. This now struck an uneasy feeling; he had made sure he closed it before work today. As he continued through his house with caution he had seen nothing unusual nor seen anything more out of place until he walked by the basement. He once again heard this skirmishing sound of what seemed like an animal trying to escape the basement. As he entered the basement the sound stopped. He was frightened but hadn't been threatened in any way, so he continued throughout his day although not in ease. He was uneasy about this happening a second time so he decided to come home early from work and see if he could catch whatever it was in action.
So at work the next day as he planned he left work early, about half past noon. “Professor Lynch came barreling into the drive way in his hunt for the unknown. His actions so urgent he forgets to even close his car door. He sprints up his steps and swings the door open to his house and there it was.” This was unlike anything he had ever seen before. Something so frightening, so terrifying his jaw hit the floor. Before Lynch could speak a word, he was snatched and drug into the basement through the little door he thought was used for “child’s play.”
-Joseph B Schneider
Oct 25, 2014
Oct 25, 2014 at 8:20 PM UTC
I hope this is the last set of letters
Because I am so tired
Of hanging onto these things that
Happened so long ago now
And allowing other people
To have this type of control over me
I love myself now and
That really is an amazing thing
I didn't even like myself back then
I couldn't even comprehend the idea
That I could care about myself this way
And that's exactly the reason
Why all of these past occurrences
Suffocate my thoughts so much
Because I cannot fathom how
People who claimed they loved me
Could treat me the way they did
How I could let them
Use me and
Abuse me and
Manipulate me to such a degree
Where I stayed in those conditions
For much longer than I should have
The reason I haven't let go yet
Has nothing to do with my exes
It has to do with the ways in which
I allowed important people
Those who I shared love and a life with
To hurt me so deeply
It is not about the people
It is not about their names
It is not even about the individual love
It is solely about me and
The love I carry for myself now
And my own inability to comprehend
How I could hurt myself so much
By letting other people
Actively hurt me so much
Dec 7, 2018
Dec 7, 2018 at 3:14 AM UTC
Lying on the bed
I think of what to write...
....words don't flow out
of my pen
my mind is clogged
vaccum surrounds me
I've ****** all the noise
into my self.
It's waiting to explode.
I realise I am too conscious
of myself,
I realise I am trying to pretend.
My pen leaks out
a random flow of ink
shaped in words
I strike them out
they don't manifest my feelings.
I don't want farce to appeal
to the eye,
I want honesty to touch
the heart.
I am waiting
for my words
to strike a chord
with the strings of my heart.
I am longing
for clarity
that will give my writing
a sense of purpose
and shorn it
of its randomness.
Lying on the bed
I think of what to write....
....my mind is a clean slate
I want to colour it
with thoughts
and feelings,
I want for it to
lose its barrenness
and be fertile
with imagination.
I want for it to
be bereft of fear
for it is,
the place
where revolutions were conceived
and philosophies were born;
the sole reason
for Man's greatness.
It boasts of coveted freedom,
which,
feared tyrants failed to ******
it is a guiding light
to the often faltering humanity.
It has been
subject to manipulations,
deceiving history
into changing its course;
scripting moments
of momentous change,
all, of course,
owing their occurrences
to the enchanting influence
it wields over the body.
Lying on the bed
I think of what to write....
....my mind is deluged
with a rush of thoughts
flowing in and out,
a haze of colours
mesmerises me,
letters, words
dance before my eyes,
songs play out in a loop,
a multitude of
smudgy-outlined faces
gazes at me....
....And I realise
with an epiphany,
It is this very train of thoughts
I shall elaborate on!
Lying on the bed
I think I know what to write on.
Sep 23, 2012
Sep 23, 2012 at 4:55 PM UTC
Time is measured
in problem sets and exams
birthday parties and housewarming parties and frat parties
going out to eat with chattering friends,
anxiety in the wait for the week’s end,
finding the time for peace in ‘alone’
or calling our parents up on the phone.
Specific occurrences far from each other:
Weeks.
... or daily:
Watching each minute slide by,
Digits slipping one by one
Into ever-so-slightly increasing quantities.
Like a microscopic tortoise
on an infinitely stretching number line,
Moving steadily,
always so steadily,
toward the invisible finish line.
Why?
Feb 27, 2010
Feb 27, 2010 at 12:16 AM UTC
Words…..because words are all I have……..:) Edgar
endearments generosity incantatory new sagacity surprise heresy dissipation violating abyss language warning culminates dalack obdurate serving waiter ossuary occurrences tortured beware silence calm bow physiognomy paucity occurrence exegeses transmogrification effectuation Adjunctive dairy tenure contention tenner reins happy indomitable, connoisseur artifice concatenation vivacity voluptuous solemnity enigmatic burdened glorious line huge……………………some I made myself…..:) Edgar
Nov 2, 2012
Nov 2, 2012 at 4:07 PM UTC
Another poem from the pen of my alter ego Barry Hodges
Half asleep, I sense you rise from the bed
Where we have shared love's passion,
Your sweaty body glistening as the dawn's early light
Peeks through the curtains of our ensuite bedroom.
O! To think that our great love affair must end
Now that your husband has threatened
To asphyxiate your six dear children
If you do not cast me aside like a worn out shoe.
And when I awake fully I find you gone forever,
The only souvenir of our last night together
Being a small squashed **** lying on the stained bedlinen.
O! How can I ever forget such a tragic awakening?
*FOOTNOTE
[I knew from bitter experience of similar occurrences that dear old Mrs Bloggs (Seaview Bijou B&B;, The Esplanade, Ramsgate, Kent) was bound to make a hefty surcharge to disinfect the bedding thoroughly. What an unromantic old ***** she was, may she rot in Hell forever.]*
Apr 26, 2015
Apr 26, 2015 at 6:16 PM UTC
At first sight, she was going to be a nobody
Who knew what the future had for us
Time is elusive. Daily events are random occurrences
Or is it? What is random anyway?
Shuffling your music playlist isn't random
Algorithm.
Jan 26, 2015
Jan 26, 2015 at 11:51 AM UTC
*I'm a firm believer in the sixth sense of animals and their ability to portend the future 'sometimes' . Many cases exist , farm animals included , of strange occurrences just before an Earthquake , Tornado or Hailstorm !
Animals have the ability to pick up emotional signals from human beings as well ! We had a quarter horse that could pick up fear , a dog that would hide under the bed an hour before a hailstorm , and a pet pig that would squeal and hide from someone it didn't recognize ! Then again I had a Rooster once , that picked up on my depressed state of mind an flogged me good with its razor sharp spurs one afternoon ! I questioned his ability to see the future later on that evening as I rocked on the front porch and picked out his barbecued remains with a wood tooth pick and a cup of hot tea* !
Sep 23, 2015
Sep 23, 2015 at 2:40 PM UTC
*Times of happiness,
Times like this when everything seems perfectly fine yet imperfect..*
When time passes by in an instant and no one knows what might happen next…
We forget all our obsessions, tensions, problems, fears, nonsense
And focus on time...time alone which has no absolute pathway…
*No course of action or reaction…
Only a measure of never or forever…*
There could be a million alternatives that could take place but…
It’s you and me…
Together.
Among all the possibilities of occurrences,
The choice of the universe accounts to this…
The perfect placement of two bodies of matter,
In this chaotic yet constant time…
You chose me.
And I chose you.
Subconscious and consciously
In this place of uncertainties
There might or might not be someone watching over, controlling us like puppets
Or there might be more to it than we know it,
Or I might not know, if not for the nick of time that happened to cross my destiny,
Destiny…
Was it?
Or was it time?
Or some power wanting to lead us here,
Or was it already written, in the stars?
So many questions but the answer one needs is if we exist at all…
Do we?
Or are we just a figment of someone’s imagination?
Are we dreaming?
Awake and thinking?
Well all I can occasionally agree on is the fact that there was a want…
A want of wanting everything to happen…
The dreams we saw when we were small…
Are we both living it?
Or the thoughts you had…the imaginations…
Are we living it all unknowingly?
Maybe yes? Who knows?
This want that keeps on arising for the want of more want…
Everything wanting to happen at the same time…
The right time, and the right place.
Mornings changing into evenings and then nights
For want of rest,
Books increasing in number
For want of knowledge,
*Souls colliding with each other
for want of escape..*
Escaping this light of nothingness…
A place familiarly known as world.
We came, we met, we lived, we died…
All in the same place where we
in fact met to be together…
For want of continuity and want of ?
Even I do not know,
I am but a helpless being of matter and my body turns to dust…
*But not so ordinary either…
as my existence and my soul does not cease to exist in this world…*
I may be a mere mortal…
But when we met…
The universe wanted it,
Destiny wanted it,
You wanted it,
Our souls wanted it,
**But our minds…
little did they know of this magic…**
That revives dead senses and unknown feelings…
Which has led us into this pathway of love…
A mere flick of brain cells that prevent us to repel each other in all possible ways…
*I love you...
You are my eternity..*
Jun 28, 2016
Jun 28, 2016 at 4:55 AM UTC
I do not look at the stars and think of the immensity of the universe.
I see them as quiet selfless guardians, the kind sisters I always wanted.
I am their sister, their daughter.
With eyes like a lunar eclipse, I stare at them and say "did you see that?"
As though the occurrences of my night were
their equivalent of a shooting star.
I hope they see all my smiles the size of galaxies,
Where my dimples have their own gravitational pull.
I hope they smile at the boys I show them
And remark about similar he looks to their dear friend, the man in the moon.
I hope they see the supernovas these boys inspire.
And I hope they see when my tears fall like meteors,
Leaving comet trails on my cheeks,
Or when I feel like there's a black hole developing in my chest
When my supernovas start to collapse.
I tell them the tales that they will connect into my constellations,
They will tell each other the stories that are the reasons for my shapes.
I do not look at the stars and think of the immensity of the universe.
I look at the stars and hope they are amazed by my personal immense universe.
Dec 11, 2014
Dec 11, 2014 at 10:05 PM UTC