jelisajelisa
Half of my is wondering what to do, while the other half thinks it knows exactly where to go from here. Half of me wants to be sad, and half of me wants to forget the whole thing and be happy. Half of me cares that this is still happening, but the other half already put it aside and forgot it.
Under your umbrella we sit and watch the rain. The way it falls so confidently, although, soon to die, on the hard, unforgiving pavement. To become a puddle, or, a leaf's drink. We're wondering what it's like to be one.
I try to see through your eyes, find the answers that won't escape your lips. No luck. But maybe my questions are meant to be discovered at a later time. Maybe the future holds what is unknown now.
She's driving, and I'm in the passenger seat, thinking my brain away (you'd think it would be seeping out my ears at the speed my thoughts are going). I can't help but replay that night over and over.
The canvas blank, and as you whisper a word, a swipe of paint appears. And as he kisses your hand, a drip of red, it falls. Once you both have felt the feelings, full and true, the canvas then, is halfway painted, and the rest of your lives paints the rest.
We grow in steps. And every time I'm reaching for the next, your right there to help me grab it. Never are we on a different page. We're always on the same.
A cigarette? No thanks. I'd rather breathe the air. The air that flows through the trees, and at just the right speed, so that it picks up the scent of the freshly cut lawns, the neighbor's lemonade, the campfire down the street, and it offers those smells to my happy little nose.
I'm not expecting you to say what I've always seen behind your secret eyes. But maybe I'll get it out of you someday, because I've really been wanting to hear it.
I crush the negative thoughts and put them at the very back of my mind; from there they will take off, I no longer will have to have them here. I no longer will care they ever came.
Every cell in my body is feeling it. Living off it, breathing it. Feeding it to it's young. And what is it? Love. And it's real this time. It never was before. It never was.
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