i always imagine, dream of what it could be,
my mind always wandered to the same thing,
to your name, your soothing voice and being,
i always dreamed the moment i'd run into
your arms, if they were as comforting as i
imagined. but were you even as i imagined?
or just a thing i made up, a thing i wanted
to believe. my mind was traitorous to my
own being, making up things that could
never be. a cruel joke. simply that. that's
my own fault, my own mind, my own soul.
i simply feel too much that i've decided to
not to feel a thing anymore.
YOU ARE READING
silent thoughts
Poetryand her words rolled out like silk from soft, rosy lips, everything lifeless is alive, wilted flowers are risen, the skies are clear, and there is peace - daisies
