Tata for now..
Me and my friend we have this kind of relationship where we call each other when we feel bad and need to complain to someone about it. Of course we tell each other happyish things too, occasionally, but they're not why we meet up. She's this kind of person who never judges anything I say, she tries real hard to understand and see if she feels the same way and if she doesn't, it's not a big deal.
If I tell her I'm having a bad day or even a bad month, she doesn't respond with;
"why? what do you have to be so sad about? there are people in this world who didn't even eat today"
Well, how do you know I did? you know. People don't know me and they keep pushing words and thoughts and feelings on me which I never actually said or even thought. They create this personality for me that I've never shown them, just because they think it fits.
She doesn't judge anything, and I'm gonna miss that most of all.
But as always, worrying won’t ever change the outcome, so I will let her go.. reluctantly,
even if I just might be worse off without her here.
If only we could be as understanding today, as he was in 13th century.
It happens all the time in heaven,
And some day
It will begin to happen
Again on earth -
That men and women who are married,
And men and men who are Lovers,
And women and women
Who give each other Light,
Often will get down on their knees
And while so tenderly Holding their lover's hand,
With tears in their eyes,
Will sincerely speak, saying,
My dear, How can I be more loving to you;
How can I be more kind?
Hues of red and yellow and orange..
the undeniable romanticism of autumn
The shades of cold, slowly/steadily
sucking the life out of all things bright
How the leaves keep falling in circles
embracing the trees, in an attempt to say goodbye
And every year it ends in a beautiful sea of flames
hues of red and yellow and orange, as they refuse to give up
But I just see the sadness of bare branches
the loneliness of that one leaf, that just won't let go
It feels as though I'm stepping on corpses
and I hear their tiny skeletons, crackle under my weight.
Pouring
..
..There's a difference between dormant and patient
In to my own misery.
Sway with me.
how a blanket feels on my skin, how I traced my hand against the curve of your face.
