I like going to the dark places
without even thinking
that I could possibly
get drown with my own thoughts
and whispers from the shadows
but I'd tell you something
you don't know about me
I have always felt alive
and alone at the same time
I have felt the lights dimming
in front of my eyes while I lay my cards
I have seen the terror in the hands
of the unknown
I have seen my own shattered heart
always at bay
and perhaps, that's the reason why
no one wants to stay
i'd rather be kissing in summer
so innocent and so naïve
you can taste the strawberries right off my lips
i'd rather be cuddling in winter
so cozy and so soft
in my mouth, i can taste your past
that's what i want and that's where i am
do you see me, sir, as a foolish maiden?
excuse my manner but how could you?
(You’re having sleepless nights.)
What a shame. I was about to tell you about the moon’s magical powers and its ability to protest. Heaven says everything would be fine, but still, I cannot comprehend the past and how cryptic it is when the truth has been denounced.
(There are certain words that my mouth will never say but that does not stop me from speaking. I’d give my heart away in the blink of an eye, if I must, for the truth.)
Now, call me, the contagious witch.
For I am always howling for the truth.
And what a shame to agree with dissipation.
You must be thoroughly blind.
In an empty ballet room, I grasped a blue spellbook with unknown proximity. Its enthralling sensation made me realized that I truly never mastered the ability to feel withdrawn. There are certain things in life that I cannot look away from—such as enticing gestures, delicate scenery and a glass full of wine. I am who I am and none of the people I have met or I will meet can change that.
I had this clarity that I have to feel big, even in small spaces and that I don't have to feel small in crowded places. Although I sing a different song when I am alone—fearful yet incandescent, and sometimes menacing, at least for me—my own colors can be atrocious, and yes, I love it.
how lovely it is—
sashay is acceptable and conscience is brutal
some cannot feel it, some cannot see it and some think it is futile
permissible, yes, but if one does not contain such thing
you must never trust them that much, for you can never win