I used to feel you in night. How the clouds touched the waves and the way you said alright. I still feel your hair, I still see you there. In corners of doorways, wandering to wander. It was never about you. It was never about I. It was about we. The stimulation of brains to pulse towards. Some things seem of importance to some while importance lies in the eyes of the beholder. Neither are wrong, but time is only enough for some.
March 2020
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Read more: untitled post 96
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Read more: untitled post 97
Nostalgia hits because it was real. It was pure innocence of a moment. It wasn’t trying, it wasn’t based on ego. Nostalgic moments are times of existence when nothing truly mattered. It was you, your thoughts and yourself in a second. It’s a feeling of purity in a moment so truthful to your own being. That’s why it mattered enough to make an impact.
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Read more: untitled post 98
Depth runs as far as you allow it. You have the movement to control it. You have the ability to consume to it. I still remember how you spoke. I still feel the vibrations of how you held the door. It’s how you take it. It’s how you allow it. It’s how you consume moments. It’s what you want to do with them and where you want to take them.
