Why does lightning feel more beautiful when looking away? The night, more appealing until the last breath of day? Are our feelings only real because we remember? Is it love or defeat each time we surrender? Advertisements
Not the jagged cliffs Nor the crashing waves Or even the depth of the blue. Not the living Neither the death Can stop me from jumping, Only you.
If we must
to limit the lies
we tell ourselves,
and kill all hope
or burn in hell,
We were a destined tragedy
Like man’s fall to sin.
Such a beautiful serpent
Who wouldn’t give in?
Have you ever met yourself in someone’s eyes
Seen your joy in all their smiles?
Then felt the warmth as it left your soul
Because it will never be your hands they hold.
That is a thunderstorm of the heart.
Lest you fall victim to your fears
wake up to find your love has disappeared
lean on a shoulder that isn’t really there,
Be the mist in my morning
The dew to start my day:
An unquestionable necessity
In the lightest possible way.
I love music.
I hate how it captures the totality of a moment (forever)
the depth, the smell, the feel.
More so the terrible than the great.
Four minutes become a deceptively ruinous echo
Prying open old chests
Blowing the dust of times past into your nostrils
Suffocating you on a phantom pain that you can only recall
It hurts to remember how much a time hurt,
And that the burden of the pain has already passed.
So you are left with an unbearable lightness
Tortured to tearlessness.
I love music.