When The Rain Falls

LECTURAS 188
Votos 3
Partes 1

LECTURAS 188
Votos 3
Partes 1

cold gray gruvia juvia love pain rain unrequited

Juvia-She's a rain woman indeed.A girl who brings rain everywhere whenever she's sad. She live's her whole life alone being shunned by other's.Todos los derechos reservados

cold gray gruvia juvia love pain rain unrequited

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Introduction
vie, may 1, 2020

1 parte

Introduction
vie, may 1, 2020

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Completed Rain paints anger and fear; dressing desire and the temptation to distinguish the faintest of lights, the brightest of suns, and the most innocent of insolence; Rain paints distress; an unwilling jeopardy that killed the most burning desires, flushed the greatest of loves and shut the somber love songs away, graceful chaos that authors hoax. Oh, but Rain paints hope; a yielding feeling in one's chest, a fleeting lullaby that once set innocence to sleep will now ponder to wake the light it once ousted, it burns the faith of hope alive, the hope that the rain too shall past, this too shall wither with the wind. Rain paints memories; each seed trickling, lingering on porcelain skins, a fleeting flash of images that cost a life. So I call the heavens, the ones that sent the pouring grace of rain among mortals; I question, is this the faintest pain we are to suffer from, or is this the greatest glory you have blessed the masses? If it was a blessing, set this mind at peace, aid this soul to rest... just as the memories we made flatter rotten, of the ones forgotten.

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What we have is just now. As long as she loves me. As long as she wants to be with me. As long as there is 'we'. I love her! But the rainbow is not just a blend of vibrant and bright colors. It doesn't even stay for a long period of time-- just enough for us to see and in a fleet of time is gone, leaving us wondering if it's real. A rainbow doesn't have black and white. It wasn't just like that. Same as love. Same as us. There were times that i want to give her up. Not because my love did fade, rather, my love is too much. Too much that letting her go is the only option left for her to choose me without hesitation, without guilt, freed of lies. I want her to grow, to weigh things as it is. I want her to make me feel that being with me is her choice. I want her to realize that i am hers and that she have to surrender herself to me as well. I want her to love me because that is the way she feels and not because it was the safest way. Being with her is paradise. It was a mixture of colored pastel. It was too vibrant to explain. But at a sudden twist of downs and ups, we are shaking. Loving her has become my weakness. The weakening thought of losing her when I fuck up is too much to run me insane. I'm overreacting perhaps. But being with her, means walking in a narrow-road of heaven. There's no security, no assurance. One wrong move, and I'll be slipping away. Just in the never ending pain of darkness, of solitude, of self-struggle. Loving her has become my addiction. I couldn't get enough of it. But so they say, what's too much can cause harm. Maybe I'm loving her too much that she finds it hard to breathe when i'm around. But yes, it is just a wishful thinking; things that I'll surely not going to say to her because i will never ever earn the courage to say so. We are just nothing but a 'fateful coincidence.'

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shes cold, a heartless one. everyone scared of her., no one can try to look at her eyes. meet my wife, princess winter Smith -gray

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Slide 1 of 10

The Ones Forgotten (Tales of Herian: Tale 1) cover

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The Ones Forgotten (Tales of Herian: Tale 1)

Completed Rain paints anger and fear; dressing desire and the temptation to distinguish the faintest of lights, the brightest of suns, and the most innocent of insolence; Rain paints distress; an unwilling jeopardy that killed the most burning desires, flushed the greatest of loves and shut the somber love songs away, graceful chaos that authors hoax. Oh, but Rain paints hope; a yielding feeling in one's chest, a fleeting lullaby that once set innocence to sleep will now ponder to wake the light it once ousted, it burns the faith of hope alive, the hope that the rain too shall past, this too shall wither with the wind. Rain paints memories; each seed trickling, lingering on porcelain skins, a fleeting flash of images that cost a life. So I call the heavens, the ones that sent the pouring grace of rain among mortals; I question, is this the faintest pain we are to suffer from, or is this the greatest glory you have blessed the masses? If it was a blessing, set this mind at peace, aid this soul to rest... just as the memories we made flatter rotten, of the ones forgotten.

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