I'm telling you. There is no reason why.
A thousand apologies on a piece of paper. White. Crisp. Rolled inside a vulnerable cryptex. A touch of curiosity, a slight dip of irony. Slipped it in place. A thousand days on a piece of what keeps us alive. I stand naked and confused, I'm only living in between your seconds. Your words are delicate. Delicate enough to seep in through the thin layers of my skin, like demure acid. This is for everyone one I know, and this is for you. A thousand little scraps of what time has burned for us, and still moments that once depicted blatant euphoria. I've only craved for solace with you under colored clouds, to watch the dawn's mist, and to lay with you through countless frailly nights. Only lie I own towards you is that time escapes my grasp each time I muster up the courage to speak, and what's left of it all are calculated. Understand me when I say that my time is running out. Carefully you touch, each time it tingles, and each time a different high. Like a scripted movie it plays in my head. I swear I could almost feel you, but almost is never as good. Our mornings are swift and minimal. A walk, cups of noir coffee, conversations about the world. Understand me when I say that my time is running out. Were those sleepless nights and your whispers in my ear, falsely deciphered or have you always known from the moment we exchanged slight simpers?
THERE IS NO REASON WHY. Only linking metaphor sentences. I highly recommend you listening to Blonde Redhead's Hated Because of Great Qualities whilst reading.
A thousand apologies on a piece of paper. White. Crisp. Rolled inside a vulnerable cryptex. A touch of curiosity, a slight dip of irony. Slipped it in place. A thousand days on a piece of what keeps us alive. I stand naked and confused, I'm only living in between your seconds. Your words are delicate. Delicate enough to seep in through the thin layers of my skin, like demure acid. This is for everyone one I know, and this is for you. A thousand little scraps of what time has burned for us, and still moments that once depicted blatant euphoria. I've only craved for solace with you under colored clouds, to watch the dawn's mist, and to lay with you through countless frailly nights. Only lie I own towards you is that time escapes my grasp each time I muster up the courage to speak, and what's left of it all are calculated. Understand me when I say that my time is running out. Carefully you touch, each time it tingles, and each time a different high. Like a scripted movie it plays in my head. I swear I could almost feel you, but almost is never as good. Our mornings are swift and minimal. A walk, cups of noir coffee, conversations about the world. Understand me when I say that my time is running out. Were those sleepless nights and your whispers in my ear, falsely deciphered or have you always known from the moment we exchanged slight simpers?
THERE IS NO REASON WHY. Only linking metaphor sentences. I highly recommend you listening to Blonde Redhead's Hated Because of Great Qualities whilst reading.
No comments:
Post a Comment