i'm scared.please (-and i)
please understand that the last time i remember being completely carefree about quickened heartbeats and blushed cheeks were the days when i did quizzes on blogthings for entertainment and rushed through my math homework so i could go on the computer as early as possible. those were the days of red scribbles on grid paper before i lost touch with things and then the paper turned into pink and white sticky notes promoting breast cancer awareness with scribbles made from pencils or maybe blue pen i
don't forget i gave you something special twice. and i don't know if you know this clearly but you ripped it apart once twice bit by bit by bit and threw it away and i took it back. i took back all the pieces and super glue-gun'd them together and hid it from you and locked it and hid the key under the mat and taped the mat to the floor and camouflaged it with words that were the same colour as everything i said before but they didn't come from the same place beca
i like owl city and firefliesi like owl city and fireflies
you like purple and orange
- you like rainbows too
but i don't see you that way
i hate the idea of words meaning different things to everyone
when they think whatever they think is right and
i am naive
and love the way a place can be alive and never moving
at the same time
or sometimes, it's burning - but not, really - only
it's uncomfortable, and feels like going too fast
and going nowhere, and stuck in a corner
with someone who you don't-like and like,
or maybe a cactus. with flowers.
and you can't stand it, but you keep it on a leash
and closed, and isolated, and i didn't know
but i figured out why:
it's like fearing to take out a knife after
you're stabbed, because, just in case
you faint at the sight of blood
and what if you never gain consciousness. but,
when you think
the red swing.It is summer, and it is raining. I love it when it rains in the summer. Summer days are usually bright and sticky and the sky feels orange and ice-cream starts to melt even before I get the wrapper open. I like green better than orange. When it rains, the leaves and the grass look greener, and the sky is grey which is just as pretty as orange, but not as hot and sticky. The world feels cooler when it’s raining in the summer, and everything is quiet because everyone is hiding indoors.
Today though, I’m waiting for it to stop raining because I want to go to the park, and my mom won’t take me there until the rain stops. I call my sister over.
“Check again. Check again.”
Safia walks over to the window and looks outside. “It stopped!” She turns away from the window and runs to the kitchen to let my mom know. I get off of the couch and follow.
This park is nice and quiet, and surrounded by trees. Not that many people come here, because it’s s
i was thinking of thursday.i was thinking of distracted drivers and crossing the road when the light is not yet red
while walking home from school, on a hot monday afternoon, in a hurry because
she doesn't want to miss the first episode of season two, and. i was thinking of
sirens, and nightmare noises that leave scars on a child witness, and the season one
finale being the last episode she could ever watch.
i was thinking of tuesday, after school sports, agressive players and a few minutes left in the game, and
a boy hoping to win for the very first time in his life, and then he would
finally make his father proud. and they would celebrate, and he would laugh
and, bad aim, and just a bit too much strength, and an injury to the head and
tears in the hospital waiting room, with a white sheet covering the eyes that never got to see his father smile.
i was thinking of songs and poems and inspiring quotes, and things
i need to tell you, and things that i've left unsaid. what you already know, but
what i want you to
.you are a piercing in my heart, and a sweet
drink that leaves an itchy feeling at the back of my throat that
won't go away. like a lingering aftertaste.
your kisses taste like music, and
flow the way moonlit rivers do, when the world is sleeping - at
midnight - and nothing else matters but. now.
i've tripped, and fallen, and bruised my knees
and crouched down in corners and cried, and wished
for more. than you gave me.
you gave me way more than i hoped for and your hugs
feel like i'm home and everything
is okay and i think of you dream of you wish
wish wish. all the time everyday constantly.
you are roller-coasters, and tattoos, and bitter
chocolate, and black coffee without sugar.
you are playgrounds, and crayola hearts, an extra
helping of dessert, and hot chocolate after the first snowfall.
i jumped off the edge of a cliff, battled
threats of burns and fire, chose
to dive from the higest possible point,
even though i barely know how to swim.
truth or dare.i've always picked 'truth'
because i hate the idea of
unknown, yet to be uttered
directions, and no choice
but to follow.
do it or face
( and picking truth,
it's only too easy to lie.
a lie is just a 'truth' under disguise. )
i've always lived life
admiring the dress-up, masks,
never questioning the illusions,
believing labels, words, guides.
live by this
and get everything you want.
( and this is the ultimate
no matter how easy you find it to lie.
this is the truth, with no disguise. )
forkintheroad, wake up, dream
believe, let go, hold on, hurt, fall, crash
truth or dare.
how much of an answer
is a disguise,
how much of a dare
will i be punished for,
if happiness is an illusion,
and life is a test,
how many dreams,wishes,promises
do i need to kill
to not fail.
how hard do i need to fall,
to see past the lies.
kill me softly,
and show me the
and i'll be your canvas.you're a
volcanic eruption waiting to happen,
with soft, marble skin and
warm whispers that send shivers down my spine.
you're a blazing fireplace after a lonely winter
walk. a blanket around my heart and
a home, balanced on the edge of a cliff.
you're a thorn and a delicious poison, and my
favourite flavour of dreams and wishes
and promises, and
i want to
drink you all in, and etch your
face, eyes, words, soul
into my mind, heart, life.
i want to trace over each mark, spot
scar, everything and
carve it into my memory.
i want to steal just as much as
you've taken from me, and break
locks, crush masks, soak in secrets.
letting everything go, losing, hanging,
leaving doors open, and
cracked around the edges.
the skin of a realist, the eyes of a child, the mind of a
disaster, and the heart of a dreamer. you have
kisses made of rain, the fingers of a pianist,
the brush of a painter.
and i'll be your canvas.