I’m not much of a story teller. Make believer. Come to me. Run to me. Day dreamer.
I am constant believer. Love can cross your path feeler. Let it all out dealer.
Enough rhyming.
No more story telling.
It’s time to just leap. See where you find yourself. No make believe needed.
Just honest relating.
Do I dare to dream
again?
Words already flow back to me.
I glide
I coast
Into another wonderful dream.
I’m frozen. Stuck in a place where I see who I was but I am no longer.
Where is my identity? I misplaced it along the way to loving you. Now I just wait to find out who I am again.
But for now… I’m frozen. Stuck in a place where I see who you made me and I no longer relate to her anymore.
Where is my identity? I lost it in trying to find what I loved about you. Now I see a glimmer of me in the future. Happy.
Until then… I’m still frozen.
A day
Same as yesterday
Accept
Accept for maybe my mood
Then
Again
Maybe not…
Bite your tongue
It’s a day
Just Another day.
Today I start
Stumbling
Mumbling
But still starting
Taking that leap that jump
Start.
I write
A choice makes no difference one way or the other.
It’s grey.
I’m grey.
The choice is the same.
Processed through a sight with the hopes of water coming out.
No matter the choice
Still drought.
An average Self am I.
Contemplation meaning no more to the world than the next thought.
The next thought is taken from us by a wonder lust creeping up in the form of opportunity.
The opportunity to hustle bustle. Sell your ass and get yours…
I back peddle. I remain distant in my heart from unresolve.
Can I be loved for my crazy?
My past me
fight to the death yet
love deeper than the rest,
me?
Can I love you in your christening of a glint of gleam,
so tired of this clean, judgemental tone for me?
#anoceanofme
Do you think of her anymore?
Do you leave sweet messages of encouragement and divine devotion? That which for a friend you will drop like pebbles.
Does she bring to mind tingling in your groin?
Or is it wasted on new and the old is just comfortable?
No more change.
Fantasy is fine…
… But she feels you.
She knows something is not right.
You wear everything in your eyes.
The new tingles you and she was not the ribbon you expected.
She was twisted in knots that may never come undone.
So, you toy, play with the idea of the unknotted ribbon. The new. She feels it. . . do you?
