❝a rustic array of verses that whisper themselves through the centuries and into our souls.❞
☾︎ a poetic escapism; bringing stories from the windermere library in my mind, to you.
-m.h.
☾︎ hr :
1 in poetry,
1 in poems,
1 in poesia.
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☾︎ the winds howl when the jungle cries, the sound of love's sorrow plays all night, piano keys fall and piano keys rise, piano keys hurls the pianist with a fight, say, when the water rushes to your side;
are you drowning in the depths desperately waiting for blue and white lies? or are you being embraced by the sound of a silent lullaby, a cautious war-cry, a mid-april sky?
☾︎ sunflowers open at the shade of your eyes, honey and gold burning on candles under sunlight, you've been told your dreams will grow cold, frozen like the becoming of a strange song;
that the clock will break, time will be torn, all that was yours will be thrown behind, the thread of fate is but a crestfallen sight, but sunflowers only open at the dawn's awhile.
☾︎ i wonder, is it easier to leave than to make things right, there is this feeling in my chest that i'm afraid i can't hide, a pain so pretentious reaching to great heights, in some sweet moments, it threatens to become a fallen kite, a glorious suffering ending as the jungle cries.
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a/n : first verse inspired by "your lie in april"; second verse inspired by "your name"; third verse inspired by "a silent voice"- i hope you enjoyed and thank you for reading.
