pieces of me

°。° The Deep End 。°。

a constant hum from the distance.

The gentle stroke of a paintbrush across an empty field of grey

so unfamiliar and yet my mind is hungrily searching for the sweet memories that my that my tongue cannot taste.
For more

my eyes scanning thoroughly for the purpose of each word, and the key that i can't quite place yet, because it's not my voice.

I want to know.
It's so close, yet so far away
It's so clear, but the glass is fogging
It's so deep, but my feet can feel the rough ground

It's right here.
I'm almost drowning in it.

because of you, I revel in the thoughts of deep blue once more.
Every day when close seems to only grow closer, and far is the mere dust upon my ceiling fan.

A plain picture is a peek into your world. words are not enough to continue on my appreciation.
fascination isnt too distant, and i find myself twirling in a mess of jumbled notes.
"a vintage duo."

when will my curiosity climax
when I feel I've reached the top, and it still creeps forward.

when will my heart mature, when thoughts are compiled of the many adventures i will take with you

when will my thoughts give me room to breathe
Room enough to see it, well enough to say it.
But the words fall out of me like polluted water
The fear of being, is now fear of being without.
An indescribable and unrequited type of throwback love.

Love me not.

words are not word enough to describe the feeling.

You are the book i cannot write,
which is still kind of funny.

I once learned that we are but walking on the roof of hell, watching a the flowers bloom, and I don't know how to tie that in but I definitely know it hasn't all been smooth sailing.

What could I know? What can I guarantee?

If the very formatting of this very piece of pieces of me, were to determine which direction would be successful, it would be leading me toward a puddled up sidewalk. It would probably lead me to think I knew where I was going all along, to only be stopped by natures way of saying a watery,
"please look at yourself."

Sure I could step over it. I could play that game. I've always loved the idea of getting lost. The feeling of not knowing where to turn, but every direction is exciting and new. Please tell me,

What should I do?
Where should I start?
When did it even start?
So many questions...
From one begining to its many ends. the words twist and stretch toward new directions, yet you diligently wait with a smile gently kissed on your face.

Im not afraid of the sharp edges or the walls that slowly creep in.
I wasn't.
Im not afraid of your presence
what presence but your words

anxious that i am again, not enough has slowly become unreal, as my heart liquifies and through that pain i split myself in two, two and two.

never pressuring, and always understanding.
Oh the broken faucet in the book room, was slowly fixing.
and now it's running... but should I turn it off?

my body has betrayed my mind countless times, letting each *touch* spill from my rough tips. But I'd always be gentle not to tear you apart. I'd whisper sweet nothings to your
Papier-mâché heart.

With the softness of each word you present
and the excitement you spark in the hole of my chest.
when I'd been nothing but tired
You somehow started me all over again, and I hope that it passes, so I can calmly say that..

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

you were lovely.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.