We begin on paper. We begin in pencil marks. We begin with breaths. Slow steady inhales, and hot Exhales to match. We begin because We believe in the call We believe so deeply, It aches... leaving it's mark. We start this way Blinking sleepy eyes We end and we fall, We spend plenty of time Face down. But we always stand up We always begin again. Because we Get to write another chapter, and we Both know... It can be beautiful. And Mark our new beginings!
Last time i was home, It was all the same I'm coming home. Also, I Am the home. Vacuos Rooms with peeling Eggshell paint. Stories stored In high placed boxes. Stained Glass window eyes. Sunflowers Cut at a hard angle. Beheaded, Displayed, on clean Counter tops. But Believe me, i broke all the Mirrors and burried the Bullets. My home is soft.
I never believed in the abstract idea of adrenaline rush until the night.. We were not 'just friends' anymore Until the moment.. You soaked me in your moonshine And i was still thirsty..
You sing in transitional Sunset chords while Summer shifts between The lateral lines On your face. There is yellow In your amber Eyes, and i know This setting song In every string Of my heart.
Gaurd the things you love, Nothing in this world is everlasting. Keep your senses open. It might slip away Like a dream, As you wake up. The things you love Are worth all the hostility. While counting those fundamentals, I just hope you keep, Yourself first!