Daking9

I want to be beside you on a midwinter day, with the snow arriving just after we did. I want this selfishly and perhaps evanescently, but I very much want this, indeed. I want to see the fruit of a pun bubble up from your smile and to see happiness in your teeth; laughter in the crinkles beside your eyes. I want these things selfishly, indeed.

Between the clouds eke drops of sunlight; Pallid notions, they are an unexpected day Who seizes me amongst the timber. Dew silently unfolds the tales of night: Poor ocean! she yearned to speak unafraid, To lilt and melt; to grieve in timbres By which one might deliquesce. And so, she fell gently, upon the world, Her craft so diligent and verdant, That the whistling grass held resonance; And tenderly over it, a hopeful breeze curled For he may never again clasp such elegance.

there was a boy who wrote. words spilled from his pen, for often he was quite alone. the night did not assuage him, even though it alone was the only thing that always came back. it made sure the boy felt lost, and it taunted him, ignoring flack. the night in limbo mused; it knew the boy better than himself. how he had been scratched, scarred, used. only his inkshed tears paralleled such wealth, and the darkness snickered inside and out. he knew the boy was worthless. what would be the point of midnight shouts? he asks. who responds to loneliness?

It is easier to write When you know less about a person. I can romanticise the ways In which I may fall in love with your look. Those rainy eyes and that little grin, And those bangs. Goodness gracious. It is easier to write when you know less about a person. When you can slowly replace your predictions with the truth, And while content at first, be, perhaps, ever the more pleased later. It is easier to compose when you can imagine they’re more like you, Or discover an invented quirk, or learn of a real one later. The nuance of a soul can fill a room, and my dear, yours is almost palpable.

Every cloud must have a silver lining, But the dew of yesterday sticks and tricks my humbled eyes. They see only the promise of earth; The present and its sticks, its dirt While the future waits humbly in the skies.

there is a girl with silver eyes, cognizant and beloved. what a vivid life one must live around the girl destined to give. there is a girl with illuminated locks, tender and golden leaféd. how it would be to truly know the girl who lives to know; to grow. there is a girl whom spills her mind, gracious and absurd. what a fine thing it would be to see the world through a lens as she: the girl with the silver eyes.

I am homesick. What iridescent riches I would give just to wake up with her warmth circumferent with my arms. The grasp would last for years upon years and to relinquish our embrace would be nigh upon impossible. How many weeks I would give just to spend a night of dreaming by the side of my own heart, sharing the most fantastic of adventures within centimetres to the most sublime flesh I have been blessed to touch before, and would be blessed to touch again. My eyes pan my room, and I am deaf with solitude. Trophies dangle precariously from a shelf as though reflecting my own construct, and I am reminiscent of classic memories etched again

Thank you for not leaving, Even when you thought you ought to. (You know the time, and We both know the tears.) I think that, somewhere inside me, That sparked something. Your non-departure. I didn't know it, but I must have known, From that moment, that I could not dare let you go.

My heart beats down on my chest and shoves my lungs into the great pit of my mattress, and you do not care. I am nailed down by heartbreak and inadequacy into a board of spring and rot, and you do not care. I am trapped in a cocoon of dread-ridden fleece; I cannot escape myself, and you do not care. My throat burns with the ache of screaming at you, and you do not care. My fingertips callus, clutching for you, and you do not care. You are "freed" by tempered steel and shredded flesh, and you do not care. You are killing my friend, and you both have forgotten how to care.