One Day One…day… That Day Will Come. What Ever That One Day Means To You. Whether It Be The Day You

I don’t believe you. I won’t ever believe you. I trust you wholeheartedly in everything you say; just not when you say that I am wanted. I’ve heard that too many times before, just to be left behind because I’m just too much. Too loud, too clingy, too excited, too sensitive…too much. Don’t get me wrong, I really want to believe you. But I’ve been let down so many times, I’m just waiting for you to get tired of me as well.

I want to know, but I will not ask.

Love. A tiny little word, with an infinite amount of meanings. Good morning: I love you. How are you: I love you. I hope you have a great day: I love you. I see you are hurting: I love you. I thought this was funny, I need to show you: I love you. This reminded me of you: I love you. Love is in everything I say to you, when I can’t write: I love you.

When I die,

Bury me in the forest.

There will be no need for visiting me.

I have found home with the foliage.

The shame of living will disappear as my body becomes the earth.

When I have no ideas for putting together the thoughts that need to read aloud by others, I like to pretend that it is not my time yet for my words, thoughts, feelings to be put out in the world. Please, give me a sign when it is my time to emerge from my subconscious once again. These thoughts are slowly drowning me and must be set free.

I despise myself. The way I live, or rather a state of surviving until the next sunrise. I despise the way I let others speak to me. The way I choose to live. I have no will to change it though. I will disassociate my days away.

I will love you quietly. In my way. You are in my thoughts, and songs, and poetry. You are in my dreams night and day.

I don't feel like ME anymore. If there ever was such a thing to begin with..

I believe in magic.

Not like the magic in fairytales, full of dragons and spells.

I believe in the magic of those small moments.

I believe in the magic of a dandelion growing in the crack of asphalt.

The moment between your inhale and my exhale.

Finding a constellation in the sea of millions of stars.

The way your eyes light up like a stormy sky.

The dew on the early morning grass.

Magic is what makes this world go ‘round.

I’m so thankful to be a part of these small magical moments.

His eyes,

Blue as the sky on a stormy day.

Her eyes,

Hazel like the sodden ground beneath.

He is beautiful, in all the strange ways.

She is pure chaos, all sharp teeth.

They will never belong together.

Not in this lifetime.

Two almost lovers bound to roam forever.

So they dream of sometime…