under the soft

'out' short story.

shivers are what isn't the pain

and it's instead to the tugging of something more delicate

i wish i could say so forwardly

since it's to cowardice it's become like this

in no place is my sight

for the touch of hazel flow slides in the breeze

i do feel for such the dents which i've built up

it's the stead of my eyes which grants this

i have nothing for anything else

i'm with my pals and the brightness hasn't fallen yet

i was laughing at something

i was talking about something

to my destiny i ask, how did she fall into my puny vision

i got distracted, no even more

it wasn't to them but to the even more

i was fighting something inside i never had before

the exhibit of her

the straying of me

i got out of assemblies

i was drawing, of her

how imperfect it was to the perfect she was

scars showed up

blood showed up

hate showed up

it was to the sunrise, morning, twilight, and nights which still kept me

eyes were pieces of sogs, i'd lost all sense

in the fevers of dusk i go

i see her, and so i fell

my knees split, my inners spilled

she came running and so said 'you need me'

i fell again, but she caught me

i tried to put my head down but she put it in her shoulders

i threw my body down and she grabbed my torso and pulled it against hers

she smelt of what so everything missed in the world

she put her lips to mine

a trance was the flight after

and after i spoke 'i've needed you always'.