The Drive Is Good.

Pain still lingers,

in places you left untouched.

Craving for a healing,

that never found its way to me.

No one deserves this slow death,

but I'll be lying if say I hate it.

Sweet words unspoken,

make cuts deeper than oceans.

Yet you left it that way,

knowing I'd never survive by myself.

Maybe I was wrong when I thought I loved you.

Maybe I just loved myself a little less.

© Moonyloonywitch

01/08/2021

10:50 am

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?

We are all someone's hero if not our own.

I asked......

Would you consider yourself, a hero?

Everybody is put here for a reason. Some of us are put here for others to look at and be the example of what not to do. Some put here for them to aspire to. Be the reason another person succeeds. Someone you want to be like. Maybe a hero, maybe a mentor. It's up to us to follow, or be, whichever one we choose.

Would you read your own story?

Or maybe, a question within your story.

The story of your life.

Would you read that story? Would you read the ending? What if the story told everything? Past, present, and future. What if?

What if your story told of every adventure you’ve ever had? If the story told of your heartbreaks and loves? If that story was the truth? And told as only the truth could read? Not like you’d like to remember at times.

If the story told about the highest highs, and the lowest lows? The times that you nearly gave up, and the times you owned the world? Your world.

If the story looked ahead to things not known to you yet? The events and people that will shape your destiny? New people. New hopes, and new tears. New love. The chance to live a long life, or a death that is as sudden as an eye blink.

Would you read that story?

Would it read like you would want?

Would you be the hero of your own story? Righting past wrongs. Living a full life. Or, would you waste the very ink it was written with? A story not worth telling.

Maybe, that is your question. Maybe you should ask yourself that very thing before your story is written.

A question within a story.

The story of your life.

And I asked this, because her story is still unfolding.

It could be considered a tragedy, be she herself wrote out that part.

So, when I asked her, “do you consider yourself a hero”, her answer was simply,

“I don’t know. Maybe some people see me that way. But I think we all rise above situations in life and we can all be hero’s.”

Be someones hero.

“Don’t say maybe if you want to say no.”

— Paulo Coelho

Stars have aligned.

And so have hearts.

Now when the sun sets in the horizon,

up comes the night.

Wild and beautiful,

with a mad sense of time.

As the world sleeps on,

souls meet at last.

Finally they've found eachother.

After eons of being nomads.

Stars have aligned.

And so have worlds.

Now when the moon shines in the sky,

down goes the light.

Sparkling and raging,

with a fierce sense of longing.

As the world stops to spin,

they hold hands at last.

© Moonyloonywitch

07/09/2021

It's always the sun in someone's eyes that attracts the night in their hearts

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 don't know what to do with all this love in my heart now, because it was all for your and now that you've made it clear that you don't need my affection, I find it difficult to keep these feelings in the same place for fear that they may get mixed up again and instead of letting go I'll accidentally hold onto you forever.

Perfect? That's unrealistic

I desire someone who's full of flaws

Someone who's crazy enough to fly to Neptune with me

Someone that would be my Sun whenever my Moon needs shine

Someone who'll love me as Jupiter loves Saturn

-milnynx

in the softness of your voice, telling me that everything is going to be okay.

I belived, in the way your eyes sparkled when I smiled and hugged back.

I believed, that day on our porch, in the love that we shared.

And after so many more such beliefs, here I stand beside your grave. Not knowing what to do or where to go.

I believed you when you said we had an eternity.

We didn't.

You lied.

And I believed.

I believed