sometimes I miss my curls. back in the day when i had boobs =(
they dance with the moonlight but their bodies lie still. there they dwell amongst unspoken thoughs and they illustrate their clouded ideas through the language in their fingertips. this song is all too familiar. played once before, each time with new edits and inserts. no symphonies, for the instrumental goes in a roundabout and the chorus is almost unrecognizable in comparison to the verses. but the bridge always serves as the outro. for they’ve never fully crossed it, and these are just hanging lines and ellipses in the lyrics. their minds both full of impulse a combination of composers who make avant garde. no beautiful ballads or distinguishable melodies, but they know it all too well. these moments, they spend before slumber speak so loudly, yet by morning they are silenced and the remember what they think the other has forgotten.
—found this poem that i wrote a few months back, and my heart skipped a beat.
i really hate those dreams that are filled with passion and scenarios that you’ve been daydreaming about because when you wake up you’re mad as fuck that it was still just a part of of your big ass dream …
I want to:
- ride a bike
- have sex
- eat good food
- drink some cold water
- drink some wine
- write a poem
- walk in the rain
- take a shower
But most of all …
I want to rise into love.
sports bra hair tied chillin’ with no make-up on =P
i went to the park.
night falls and the only person i can hear is me. the world is so quietly loud outside of my window, like a city street on mute. you can feel the volume. the trees whisper sweet everythings while the war in the hearts of those who walk by yell nothings. theres a battle between what is, what isn’t and what we all want it to be. no one wins in a three way tug of war so the flowers wilt from the sadness what we all become filled with because no one can take home the victory. so sad we are. but we don’t even know that we’re dampening the universe with the weight of our sentiments because we’re too busy hiding behind the guise of our distorted smiles, all filled with crooked curves like confused parabolas. where is the sunshine ?