Will I ever fully have and indulge in what I want? I want the love and stability, but I miss spontaneity.
New, interesting, not necessarily better.
Dim, not dark. Heartbeat, or heartbeats?
Sitting on a soft rug, with your next potential thought being the only one before you act. Cold glazes over the room, dimly television lit, and buzzing with tingly limbs that are struggling to conquer intimacy.
I remember what I felt before and after.
Creamsicle orange to vivid white behind my eyes, they see it shine in ombré when rolling back.
Tasting static on my teeth; metal entering my tastebuds as your body moves in tandem above my petite frame.
Feeling muscles move and release, to which I didn't know were in need of being tended.
Breath I've not tasted, skin of which I didn't recognize the texture, and words I've heard spoken, but now in a different timber than before. Peaking.
Sometimes the new is true fear. Instead of eyes rolling back to vibrancy, they're in search of the exit, or a semblance of safety for the time.
Sometimes, that feeling is better than safety itself.
Feelings of guilt with no reason; other than the past of wrongs that can't be controlled like my eyes could.
I see through to windows of peace, and mostly see clouds; a storm rolling in for what feels like the hundredth time.
New means good, right?
YOU ARE READING
Little Thoughts
RandomThoughts that can't stand alone; these ideas truly wouldn't be enough for individual projects.
