It's not often that you find someone who speaks the same language as you do. When they speak so similarly to one's own hidden thoughts, that it often seems like an echo of the desired thoughts in your mind without the discovered vocabulary, only with the exact combination of words to exist in such harmonious ease, you discover something beautiful. As if they speak in such poetry that reflects your own thoughts. I don't care how you look, I don't care what physical qualities you possess, other than that you are healthy. But, when you find someone where you can close your eyes, and feel their words; like a soft touch that dips their fingers gently into one's essence. To pass through your soul as if it were the collection of stars being pushed in the Milky Way altering your universe in such a way that everything makes sense, or perhaps nothing needs to make sense anymore. You feel the sensation of being seen, or understood, complete? To feel welcomed and appreciated for simply being yourself. There's no better feeling than this, this moment of vulnerability, the purity of two individuals actually caring for one another. It doesn't happen often. Not today, but maybe the next.
My mind wanders from it's vessel in search of something, I'm not exactly sure what it wants, but often it returns with a consistency that pleads hope. Without my command or control it comes and goes as it pleases, and returns with pretty sounds. Always pretty sounds. A vibration, a frequency that shakes it's feathers. To return with a sound, and call it out into the darkness, just as I found it, but not a sound returns. Not even an echo distorted from rippling illusion, for the depth of darkness swallows all, all illusion of perceived visual 'awe'. There's no path that returns to where this sound was found. A moment of hopefulness that can ache for an eternity, the hope that by somekind of miracle, that displayed such vibrancy in frequency will have found its way back to my crystal calling. Hopeful sounds from the silent darkness, nothing can be heard from the echoless abyss, but if one travels beyond the bearing of sound, one can return with such gems, gems that if peered into, will conjure such desires of love, a love so terrifying that even the thought of it shattering, at the most gentle touch, cripples one's ability to hold on at all, the panicking anguish floundering in one's own self affliction. Pretty sounds is all they will ever be, but a hopeful dream of what could have been, perhaps the admiration of possibility is enough to hold on waiting, for the next pretty sound.
YOU ARE READING
Release
PoetryThis is a collection of my writing from the past 7 years. Before I started to write, I was a very lost individual, as are most teens, but I was lost in darkness. I was too afraid to move anywhere at all. I hid in the dark, debilitated by my own anxi...
