Fixation on the beauty of what’s being felt. Feeling ( through/because of/is the reason of): art.
it bothers me how so many years later i still freeze whenever i cross your path. i know i should not care and i feel like i never do
By Strange & Poetic12 months ago in Poets
Let me hold you in my arms through the distance of the night let the flames burn my embrace if it means you get to rest.
By Strange & Poeticabout a year ago in Poets
It's not much about pain but about control drawing power in red all over my thoughts burning sens of unallowed clearance
I found home in the crease between your collar bone and your jaw a little piece of softness within the smell of your skin:
There is something in the air of Spring that melts the walls of restraints. Something about the Sun, or maybe the smell
nobody warns you about the uncanny familiarity of small villages changes. Nor do they share the feeling of grievance that assails you
Through the glass, head rested against a wooden windowsill, I can see burdening weight reaching a freefalling freedom.
If walls could talk would they whisper my fears my cries my insecurities
