It’s extremely hard to pretend that your brain isn’t telling you loads of supposed lies. And It’s apparently more hard to pretend you’re fine when you’re at war with your mind.
Somedays, I want to spread my wings, be free, fly beyond the horizon I see. And, then there are days, I place a block of ice on my hollow chest, waiting for it to melt, through my tears that rain.
Tonight you weaved the words not on the page but on my heart just as the night writes its story into the stars, Into the moon that waxes and wanes, Into the wind that brings the smell of the sea and flowers to me, and I hear your words, so beautiful, whispering songs that soothe my soul in this silence that cloaks me.