Take My Hand And Run Away For A While.

Memories of a thousand moments,

All dance in the late afternoon sunlight.

Like the final touch to the awaited painting,

They shimmer beneath my eyes.

In that moment it feels like time never passed,

Like there's a forever in between my lips and the teacup.

But like an ever flowing river,

the memories come and go,

one by one.

A sad reminder that time never promises.

And all that you feel will last a lifetime,

will be gone in the blink of an eye.

And now I sit on the floor,

surrounded by the rare November warmth.

But I miss yours.

I miss your hand and the soft touches it leaves behind.

And all I now have are the ghosts of your palm,

and the coldness of the paintings that they left behind.

An ache deeper than any ocean runs through me,

and it sadly whispers promises of a forever.

I know they won't be broken this time.

Because I've always known that you were the one.

Why does emptiness hurt so much,

when there is nothing for me to feel anymore.

Dragging my pale hands across the dirty walls,

I feel like giving up on everything.

I've lived on for so long,

hoping that someday everything would get better.

But that was just a lie I told myself,

because all that ever happened to me was blue.

From heartbreaks to heartbreaks,

I lived on hoping I would be free one day.

But turns out the way we live our lives,

is always predetermined before our births.

Stars and galaxies had perfectly aligned,

to make sure that luck never came my way.

All those times I felt like joys,

were simply mirages on my abandoned mind.

I wanted answers for so long,

but was afraid to come get them.

Now in the middle of the night I stand,

my heart feeling heavier than ever before.

My pale hands glides over the knocker,

and the sound of it makes the stillness scream.

Moonlight is the only comfort I have now,

as I close my eyes and take a deep breath.

The cold night air smells bittersweet,

but strangely it feels like home.

It is home.

Losing someone you love is hard enough,

but losing all of them together,

is the worst torture that a soul can suffer.

It's been years since I came home.

But I always carried it within me,

a burden that was uncalled for.

Now with the moon and the night as witnesses,

I gather every last ounce of life in me.

Calling home for the first time in years,

I am answered with a gentle breeze that caresses my cheeks.

Maybe they too missed me like I missed them.

Maybe I should've come sooner,

so that I could live a little longer.

But it doesn't matter now.

I call home after so long,

to let them know that I'll come soon.

It's just a matter of months, said the doctors.

But to me it feels like I have eternities to cross,

to finally be whole again.

Calling home for the first time in years,

I can't wait to be finally home again.

© Moonyloonywitch

12/08/2021

Honestly I don't know.

But maybe I love them because they feel like a part of me.

Like I am a puzzle and the pieces are scattered all over this world. As songs and paintings and poetry and plants. And like stars and moon and oceans and trees.

The things I love are the reflections of my soul.

Everything I've ever loved reminds me of who I once was or who I am. I love them because they feel like home. Like they are made of the same things that I was made from.

I love them simply because they make me, me.

Why do you love what you love?

And sometimes we are left with no answers but a bleeding heart that still refuses to give up on them. Still holds on with the hope that someday we'll live the dream in our heads. And so we live, like butterflies waiting to come out of their cocoons. But sometimes the cocoon gets damaged before we can fly, before we can breathe. And all that's left will be the shattered pieces of our hearts that shines like little red spots......and people in a time after us will call them galaxies.

It takes a Minute to Love someone,

But Years to forget them.

And a Lifetime, to wonder

why you fell for them in the first place.

It's the light brown color of my tired sighs and the warm pink of my sleepy snores. The monotonous rambling of my mind brings to life the precious olive green in my soul. The songs I know by heart, that are always at the tip of my lips, shines in a soft earthy brown glow. If there was a colour to describe the way my heart swells everytime I watch the sun go down in the far horizon, it would be a mild beige tinted with a pretty rosy flavour. And when I look at myself in the mirror, when I see the person I have become, I can see the turquoise of my soul smiling softly over my head. I don't know what color my aura is but all that matters is how beautifully I glow when I smile at myself.

Brown for the earth's child that I am, that I always was.

Pink for the pretty parts in me that I've started to fall in love with.

Green for my soul that has slowly started healing from within.

Beige for the ways I am always there for me.

Turquoise for how much alive I am and how beautiful it is to create and grow like I do now.

What is your color palette at this point in your life?

I've described you in every way that I can.

You are the moon and the stars,

in the horizon that I am.

The river's brilliant blue water,

is how I picture you in my mind.

Sweet tea in the evenings,

bears the same comfort of your voice.

Feathers in my dreamcatcher are beautiful and soft,

yet cannot compare with your touch.

Kindness is what your heart is made of,

and know I need it the most.

I have pictured you in every way that I can.

From the chocolate melting in my hands,

to the melodious song of the sirens at sea,

everything somehow fits my description of you.

Hauntingly beautiful is the phrase that fits you perfect.

For you never leave my dreams,

and you're always there in my wake.

I feel like when I cry behind closed door,

you become the breeze through the window.

Sun kisses on babies are what you feel like,

too good to be true yet somehow always real.

I haven't seen you yet.

We haven't met each other here.

And I don't even know if you exist out of my head.

But when I close my eyes and imagine being with you,

I swear I could hear your laugh in my bones.

Ricocheting off the walls in my head,

and slowly singing me too sleep.

© Moonyloonywitch

31/07/2021

12:16 pm

The ghost of your skin is still warm on my palms. Your scent lingering in the spaces between my fingers. My eyes are still on the last place that held your shadow. You've disappeared through the door that's still open. I can't bring myself to shut it, for fear that I might lose you forever then.

The moment stretches on and I can't feel anything except for this dull thumping of my heart.

It was a mistake to hold you so close and kiss you with love. And it was an even bigger mistake to hope that you kiss back. Mistakes that cut off our red strings of fate. And now, like autumn leaves in the cool breeze, our souls are drifting apart, blown away from the other to lands far from this place.

Calling this heartbreak would be cruel. This feels like death.

As I feel the colours in me drain away along with the warmth inside, I know you've killed me with your absence. Or perhaps your presence all along...

I know you will never return.

You won't ever come back.

I won't see you ever again.

And I won't see this me ever again too.

The sky is still sleeping outside. And soon the love in me will go to sleep as well.

They say empty vessels make the most sound. But the screams of my soul only come out as whispers against the silence of this dawn.

I've lost you and I've lost myself.

As the sky turns to a mixture of greyish pink, I stand at the same spot you left me. Wondering why everyone says love is beautiful, when it has been a painful poison all along.

The yellow letter sits on my table.

Edges worn and writing faded.

A faint scent of sandalwood and lavender,

is all that lingers where your hands once roamed.

I've kept it close to me all these years.

In hopes you'll write one again.

But that's all it has been.

Hopes that seemed hopeless to begin with.

I cannot bring myself to crumple it.

Or tear it into small bits.

Deep down I am scared.

Your words have become a second breath to me.

Almost as if I'll die if I stop thinking about them.

We never said goodbye.

But you did say you were bored of this love.

Maybe it's time I threw it away.

The tiny piece of paper that held me a prisoner all these years.

Time for a fresh new me.

One where I don't give up my heart to random strangers.

With a racing heart and a head full of doubts,

I take up the paper and read it again.

For the last time,

I remember your face.

I remember how much in love I was.

And for a final time,

I trace my fingers over your words.

With love, you say,

but it's been dead for a while now.

And now, I think I'll bury it.

But the doorbell rings and I sigh.

The man seems amused by my tears.

He hands me the box all the same,

and then walk away with a good day.

I open the box and there you are.

Smiling from the past like you're still here.

Another piece of paper fall into my lap.

Your words stare at me again.

Fresh scents of sandalwood and lavender fills me.

With love, you say again.

I almost laugh out but then catch myself.

It's wrong to laugh at the dead.

But I still smile, happy.

I held onto you for so long.

And finally when I began to let you go,

you've just gone on.

Maybe what kept you alive for so long was me.

Afterall how could death drag you down,

when I whispered your name to the passing wind,

and wrote it in sand over and over again.

Maybe that's why certain love are born.

To keep the other alive and breathing.

And with every breath I take now,

I remind myself there's someone for me too.

© Moonyloonywitch

01/09/2021

I am sorry I couldn't create a safe place for you.

I am sorry I couldn't be brave enough to let you be you.

I am sorry for all the times I made you say you hate pink (we love it now).

I am sorry for trying too hard sometimes and not trying at all other times.

I am sorry that you had to face all those years alone, without someone to hold you close.

I am sorry for letting you go when I should've held onto you tighter.

I am sorry for thinking that shutting you out will make me feel like I belong somewhere, anywhere.

I am sorry for abandoning you when all you ever had was me.

But now, little one, we are here. You and I, both of us are safe in this space that I have started to call 'heart'.

Cry all you want, I'll hold you. Be fierce, be gentle, be everything that you've wanted to be. I am here and you can be you.

Sweet young child, you're safe in my hands.

And we'll be okay. I love you, and that's all that matters.

To my younger self,

I'm sorry that I couldn't save you. I'm sorry that I didn't stop you from harms. I'm sorry that now you're too broken to be put together

It was never your fault. It was never your fault. It was never your fault. Not your fault. Not your fault. Not your fault. Not your fault

Fragile is the way you walk along the beach,

looking out at the setting sun.

Fragile is how your voice sound,

when you hum the songs of your dreams.

Fragile is how your eyes look,

when you see a star and wish upon it.

Fragile is you,

sometimes in the morning,

always at night.

But everytime you smile,

fragile becomes my heart.

Everytime you cry,

fragile are my bones.

Fragile has long since stopped being a word to me.

Now it is the state of my being when I am in your arms.