We are all made of measured quantities, forth the day we're born. Our numbers float up along the shorelines, and across the heavens, but with limits that reel us down the ground. But I, I always ached for more – more numbers to fill me in, more sand for my hourglass, more hues for my palette, more stars in my sky; I asked for more from the universe, than it could ever possibly give me – than it could possibly carry... until there were you.
You have taken my soul, and filled it with the warmth of every dying star; the heart of the universe beating alongside mine.
It was you who built me a home with what few numbers left in you, and made me your very Own.
Within your predetermined days, your few gentle words, your one hell of a soul, I – for once in my life – had Understood everything.
And then, it's as if the universe came crashing down on me, at the sight of you. And then, I was infinite.
YOU ARE READING
Paper & Ink |#Wattys2016|
Poetry"I am the black on white; the ink on paper." A collection of my nightly thoughts and daydreams. Highest rank: #5 in Poetry. Please enjoy reading and find a friend in one of my works. :)
