Lonely hour with no rest Dreaming of your arms Tightly wrapped around my breasts. Faceless hero, conqueror of my heart, Cherisher of my soul, You stand there in the dark, Unaware that I exist. Advertisements
“Short as life may be, you always need to breathe. It is the present that counts, the moments you live. So I stop and contemplate until I feel satiated enough with where, and who I am right now. (…) After that pause, I feel right on time, right where I am supposed to be.”
We are constantly walking between halls, of rooms, we can no longer enter – or cannot yet see – On a thin thread that ceases to exist, as soon as we land the next step. There is no walking back. No speeding up.
Creativity is a voice that you call to. It is right there, ‘t sings inside of you. You just have to learn how to reach out to it, hold, and pull it through.
Sometimes it feels like you are with me Out of misplaced duty, not out of want. You don’t owe me anything. You want out? Just go. I will be better off on my own Than with unrequited love gripping At my hand and clawing at my heart.
You are like icing on a cake. If I can’t get my hands on you, I’ll still have a yummy cake to bite into. The thing is… I just like icing very much, and I’d really like a bite of you.
There is so much I see, So much care, So much beauty, So much potential, That it diverts my gaze. Once I notice it, It starts to pop up, And spread All around me.
Clumsily climbing my way through the rocks, I stumble upon a patch of soft green moss that tickles my toes. Reaching the far end of the pier, I stop and take a deep breath. I wish I had more time to linger here, sit and absorb the sounds of the lake, its scent
Paths crossed, shifting lights, Leaf swirling by diverts eyes. Another love’s lost.
Step into the unknown, Out Of habit, Stretch and Walk, free of your own Will, out into the wide world
During winter, we often feel cold in our bodies and in our hearts. Overwhelmed and exhausted by our environment.
Keys turned in the lock. He walked in, and shed his coat and jacket in the lobby. Then he eyed his flat. Soulless, nude space, open lines, cold, empty walls, uplifted only by the view, and the grey light filtering through the high windows.