Stop Running And Turn Around.

Somedays I crave the touch of another in my soul. I need someone to understand all the chaos inside me but at the same time be intrigued by everything as well. I want to lay down my soul bare, like the musical notes on a white sheet of paper. And I hope someone who appreciates the melody comes along and picks me up. And when they start to hum the tune I have kept hidden in my depths for so long, I'll finally feel like I belong somewhere. Even if that somewhere is just the tip of their tongue or the curve of their lips.

Beauty of nature is not found without.

It exists at the end of your every neuron.

Like phases of the moon, I change the way I see the world. Sometimes it's too much yellow, all bright and beautiful and like the scenes from a ballroom.

And sometimes it's a tired white. With no life left in me to fight. I can feel the sighs of the earth. We share our tears, and I feel safe in her arms.

Every now and then it's green. Fresh and alive, looking like a newly bloomed daffodil. It brings back memories of past summers. A carefree world with a golden undertone.

I also see red sometimes. Like the scream of a banshee and the pain in their eyes. It reminds me of my first heartbreak. Drunk and hurting with heavy eyes, but a heavier heart.

But today all I see is grey. Like the monotonous susurration of the rain, it's killing me slowly, burying me alive. Seeping into me like I am a sponge.

This is why I hate gloomy rainy days.

It feels like I am half dead, but half alive.

I don't know where to belong.

....................................................................................................

The sky keeps pouring outside.

But all that my eyes see are worlds within each drop.

Each one looks so transparent and fragile.

And as they race each other against my window,

I silently cheer for the one that's slow.

Because I know how it feels to be last.

And because I know there's still a chance.

Who knows, maybe when the night becomes alight,

I'll stop seeing the world in blue.

Maybe when the stars come out and paint the sky,

the colours in my head will mix and blend.

And when they do so, I'll wait by the seashore.

Brush in my hand and music on my lips.

Holding my breath, in the fading sunlight.

Susurrations of my heart grows louder,

as I watch the sky being adorned in a soft pink.

© Moonyloonywitch

Dear diary,

It's August again.

The sun has quietened down,

and so has my heart.

The most peaceful time of the year,

are August afternoons spent with cups of sweet tea.

☻︎♡︎

Dear diary,

Life is beautiful again.

The monotonous journey has taken a break,

And everything has become shades of happiness.

Days are warm and serene,

And I believe this comes close to heaven.

☻︎♡︎

Dear diary,

I think I am happy.

Atleast for now.

Atleast for August.

And I hope this stays.

If not forever, then atleast for a while.

☻︎♡︎

Dear diary,

You are going to be filled with stories and love.

You are going to be full of wonder and joy.

It's August again,

and we've both come to life.

Like the soft hues of ink on your pages,

my heart has begun to see the world in cotton candy colors.

☻︎♡︎

Dear diary,

And August my love,

We shall have the most beautiful times together.

When you spread your wings and fly away from the home you've always known, rarely do you realize the depth of the fact that it would not be so easy to return.

I miss everything about my home. Now that I've left, all I want is to go back.

Crawl into my bed and fall asleep to the sounds of the sea.

The sea and its crashing waves, a lullaby that has sneaked into my life without me even realizing.

I cannot sleep in the silence of this new city.

I miss the waves.

And the comfort knowing that the sea is awake and keeping me company.

With a tired sigh, you tell me that life has become pointless now and that you've forgotten how it felt to be alive. You tell me you don't know where to find the next chapter of this monotonous life of yours.

I hope you find it in between your favourite book, with pages folded that remind you of how beautiful life sometimes can be.

I hope you find it the way the flowers in your homemade pots bloom late in the afternoon, spreading a faint fragrance that people will soon come to associate you with.

I hope you find it in the sweetness of the tea that you have in the mornings, just before you walk out to meet your best friend.

I hope you find it in the warmth of your blankets at night, when the moon filters in through the open window and falls on the suncatcher beside your table.

I hope you find it in the familiar tunes of your childhood songs that always adds a little bit of yellow to your eyes.

I hope you find it in the swift winds of the early winter mornings, where the steam from your cup fogs up your glasess as you sit across and smile at the little boy who claims he is Peter Pan.

I hope you find your next chapter in all the tiny nooks and corners of the world that hides the most beautiful moments that this life can come up with.

You know where to look. But you've been looking with your heart closed.

I love the morning sun's kisses

And the sweet smelling flowers.

I love the way the rain dances on the lake

And the song of the wind.

I love the tenderness of a daffodil

And the depth of the vast blue sea.

I love the way the mountains stand guard

And the calm reassurance of the flowing river.

I love the little frog under the big shroom

And the cute little dance of a squirrel.

I love the slowness of the setting sun

And the gentleness of the moon's light.

I think I am falling in love with this life

And it's warm embrace.

Ohh to be surrounded by all this beauty.

Ohh to be me.

It's a shell.

We're long gone.

Forever has an end.

And time is no more.

Just a small speck of sky.

A large drop of ocean.

Secrets ageless with history.

Promises that speak of betrayal.

Old paintings hung, forgotten.

Letters cramped under the bed.

A flower that wilts on the sill.

A song that died on the lips.

Fading colours behind the mirror.

Longings in the wind, whispered in desperation.

It's an end, like all good things must face.

Atleast we tried.

But what a tragic attempt that was.

For eternities to come,

they'll talk about the lovers

who almost had it.

But almost is never enough.

And so they'll say,

to be young and in love is a beautiful thing.

And we'll watch,

in pity from the shadows.

She's fading away.

And all I can do is watch.

The crumbling remains of our memories,

rise up in the air like afternoon dust.

I can smell the love we shared.

But with a hint of tragic helplessness.

She's flowing away.

And all I can do is stare.

Whose fault was it that we became

the very thing we promised we won't.

All we ever wanted was a simple life of laughter.

And yet here we are now.

Me and her.

On the brink of breaking apart.

On the edge of the world.

Soon enough we'll be strangers.

And all that once was will become old tales.

Levitating through the mixed scenes of the past,

I try to find one last sweet thing.

A caress on my cheeks.

A smile on her lips.

Hands held under the stars.

A kiss shared at dawn.

But in the end I find none of those.

She must've taken it all away.

Afterall that's what we said we'd do.

Be all or nothing to each other.

Simply everything or nothing at all.

It seems she has kept her promise.

And now it's my turn.

© Moonyloonywitch

02/09/2021

Sometimes you meet someone.

And suddenly all your poems are about them.

I am tired of writing about you.

But I can't seem to write about anything else.

I can't make you perfect, because you're not.

Yet all the lines I have ever written are full of love.

For you, I guess.

Because ever since we met,

my heart has always spoken your name.

In whispers, and then as songs.

Now in paintings and poems,

your existence sprawls across the walls of my house.

I only realised that it was love,

when pastel yellows became too beautiful to ignore.

Stupid thing love,

making me wait and hope,

when all this time you never were here.

I feel like I am inside a snow globe,

enchanted to stay a happy sight forever.

But deep within the walls of my heart and soul,

the winter of your absence has turned an ugly grey.

The snow no longer pure and white,

but tinted with the fading colours of my heartbreak,

and the lost yellows of your smile.