time: 9:42am
music: monuments and melodies - incubus
mood: ok
thems' story.
*~ you without, here to hold. replicate- vindicate, to erase whitened whispers ufolded aged grace on empty face. brushstrokes of paint in poetry in sync in motion in... the very essence of all the emotions she had ever felt captured like wild dragonflies, their paper-thin wings thrashing against each other's as they flap against the walls of her heart struggling to break free.
*~ he is her deepest cut and when she thinks of him, she thinks of her seas with no lighthouses, no electricians. and as they dragged their wreck, kissed in the dark and tasted salt in their wounds, she penned him her last stanza in poetry, the incurable storm in her stomach that felt like a thousand razor-sharp raindrops piercing her naked soul. the unbearable pain that made her vomit glitter and cry shimmering opalescent tears that turned to pearls as they fell onto her lap.
*~ her seas are shoreless; he is the traitor anchor and when she questioned his demise she couldn't help but wonder if he would burn amidst carmine tongues of fire in hell or if he was heaven-bound, making a dozen angels weep as they caress his cheeks with the tips of their wings.
*~ her happiness sounds like a foreign country, so far away.
