It Hurts To See You Like This.

It seems like my heart only understands what you speak, even if you speak with an absence of words.

~

m.l.w

I've described you in every way that I can.

You are the moon and the stars,

in the horizon that I am.

The river's brilliant blue water,

is how I picture you in my mind.

Sweet tea in the evenings,

bears the same comfort of your voice.

Feathers in my dreamcatcher are beautiful and soft,

yet cannot compare with your touch.

Kindness is what your heart is made of,

and know I need it the most.

I have pictured you in every way that I can.

From the chocolate melting in my hands,

to the melodious song of the sirens at sea,

everything somehow fits my description of you.

Hauntingly beautiful is the phrase that fits you perfect.

For you never leave my dreams,

and you're always there in my wake.

I feel like when I cry behind closed door,

you become the breeze through the window.

Sun kisses on babies are what you feel like,

too good to be true yet somehow always real.

I haven't seen you yet.

We haven't met each other here.

And I don't even know if you exist out of my head.

But when I close my eyes and imagine being with you,

I swear I could hear your laugh in my bones.

Ricocheting off the walls in my head,

and slowly singing me too sleep.

© Moonyloonywitch

31/07/2021

12:16 pm

A million touches later you're finally here to stay.

Probably with a million more you'll finally fall for me too.

But sadly, we don't have so much time.

Maybe this is our last sunset together.

And when the light of the next moon falls on your pretty face,

I'll close my eyes one last time.

And just like that fade away with nothing but your name on my lips.

Phantom Limb

deep

in the

forest

of dreams

I come upon

your

resting place

a headstone

in the center

of a clearing

where all

my thoughts

of you

are buried

reverently

I touch it

to remind

myself

what

I have lost

We are all someone's hero if not our own.

I asked......

Would you consider yourself, a hero?

Everybody is put here for a reason. Some of us are put here for others to look at and be the example of what not to do. Some put here for them to aspire to. Be the reason another person succeeds. Someone you want to be like. Maybe a hero, maybe a mentor. It's up to us to follow, or be, whichever one we choose.

Would you read your own story?

Or maybe, a question within your story.

The story of your life.

Would you read that story? Would you read the ending? What if the story told everything? Past, present, and future. What if?

What if your story told of every adventure you’ve ever had? If the story told of your heartbreaks and loves? If that story was the truth? And told as only the truth could read? Not like you’d like to remember at times.

If the story told about the highest highs, and the lowest lows? The times that you nearly gave up, and the times you owned the world? Your world.

If the story looked ahead to things not known to you yet? The events and people that will shape your destiny? New people. New hopes, and new tears. New love. The chance to live a long life, or a death that is as sudden as an eye blink.

Would you read that story?

Would it read like you would want?

Would you be the hero of your own story? Righting past wrongs. Living a full life. Or, would you waste the very ink it was written with? A story not worth telling.

Maybe, that is your question. Maybe you should ask yourself that very thing before your story is written.

A question within a story.

The story of your life.

And I asked this, because her story is still unfolding.

It could be considered a tragedy, be she herself wrote out that part.

So, when I asked her, “do you consider yourself a hero”, her answer was simply,

“I don’t know. Maybe some people see me that way. But I think we all rise above situations in life and we can all be hero’s.”

Be someones hero.

Honestly I don't know.

But maybe I love them because they feel like a part of me.

Like I am a puzzle and the pieces are scattered all over this world. As songs and paintings and poetry and plants. And like stars and moon and oceans and trees.

The things I love are the reflections of my soul.

Everything I've ever loved reminds me of who I once was or who I am. I love them because they feel like home. Like they are made of the same things that I was made from.

I love them simply because they make me, me.

Why do you love what you love?

You watch the light leave their eyes. You watch their heart crumble into crimson colored dust. But that's all that you can do. Watch from afar while another bleeds for your warmth.

And then you realise how very cruel fate can be sometimes.

Because there is nothing you wouldn't do to hold them in your hands, there's nothing you'd want more than wiping their tears away. And you'd take away their pain in a heartbeat and replace it with all things beautiful in your life. If only you could.

Sometimes you can love someone so much but not in a way that matters to them. And not in a way that makes sense to you. But still there's love and pain and longing. But it's all wrong and right at the same time.

Sometimes it's painful to love someone. And sometimes it's painful to be loved. And you don't really have a choice with either of them.

So you watch them leave, with a broken heart, and you're left there with an ache in you that'll never really go away.

And in the silence of the night you whisper to no one in particular.

"In another lifetime perhaps...."

All I ever did was either chase someone or run away from another, when the only thing I really wanted was to stay somewhere, to let my roots grow in someone's heart and be their anchor in return.

—Lilllium, from In Place Of The Mirror is a Portrait of You

It's always the sun in someone's eyes that attracts the night in their hearts