We all would like a response. I’ve noticed things as I have departed from social media again. It isn’t just on the social networks but also in life, we want a response, reaction, some comment or critique. We have people changing their hair, the way they act, people they associate with, just to get a
Your biggest audience is yourself. Before anyone starts saying or thinking, what will Gee_ology rant about now, let’s clear the air. I’ve learned a key thing as a writer which is what I wrote as my first sentence. We get so caught up in likes, reblogs, and etc that we forgot why we write. Now,
Swift tales spun to see behind broken dreams. Promises of what once was. Empty lines through skies stretched by infinite time. Or so was said til space showed its face. Phased history now carried through the sands of time. Deserted oceans tearing a broken ship. Eternity held by stars till death finds its orbit. Dragging
I’ve found that a good portion of our lives is spent within our minds. Not a day goes by where we are not in our heads. We contemplate the world around us. The situations we face are fluttering around and caught by our emotions. We remain locked in what feels to be an eternal struggle,
Hold the card in play and know it is more than a game. Heart tamed from desire but finding home within a star. Watch my hands point towards you. Vivid petals parted to find your scent invigorating. Textures drawn and felt by such illustrations. I hold you close as you are. Queen of my heart.
What do I love about you or how do i know I’m in love? Is it obvious? The way I see you? When you smile, the way you slightly tilt your head? When we sit and you find ways to touch me or get close? Is it When you laugh and find something extremely funny,
Bury me in your embrace. Warmed with tunes that create perfect melodies of love when you whisper to me. Sweet aroma, when space is no longer needed. Blissful tales created by such memories. Spread your wings as I come within to share the flowing time paused. Allow me to trace the textures of art, formed
Tales spun. Swiveling in minds of imaginary perceptions. Entangling senses with vivid imagery. Mysteries shifting through the corner of eyes. Passed down through the ages. Find the stories in the shadows.
My hands move with such a rapid motion that it seems to move on its own. Jumping from device to device, I find myself in constant odds, wondering where it is that I find complete comfort. What device should I use to write, where is the perfect spot, platform, who am I writing about, Why
Kill me not with soft words from such lips. Having my soul engulfed by invigorating touch that reaches the long, forgotten, beating heart. Keep me buried if I am but a passing wind in a season of one’s choosing. I have yielded to such a cause that men seem to fall victim to. Why has