In this abandoned room in the corner of my house,
I always end up falling in love.
In love with this cup of tea
Now empty,
Drops of the remaining tea forming patterns, resemble the drowsiness of ambition 's lantern.

In love with the pages and pages of beautiful but doubtful love letters written to my passion.
But can't send them to the stars a million miles apart from my reality.
Like a girl trying to search for stars in broad daylight.
Scared to look at it in the eyes,
The passion in my eyes might burn into ashes you know.
It exists as the sun, it's a star too you know.

Music pours into my fantasies,
Like the drink of elixir into a gold jar of hope.
What is this room if not my utopia,
Where I'm free to fall in love with my silent mania.
Where the shackles on my life feel like bracelets of light on my hesitant wrists.

So in love with the silence of the trees.
I can't hear them but the shadows of their leaves forming hearts on the wall tells me a different story,
Of all the times I fell in love with the all the lives i can't see.
Their sweet rustling sing to me in the celebration of the simplicity of my happiness.

This love of writing so peaceful,
Like a breeze made by the angel of creation breathing near my shoulders.
Like a hand made of light pouring in through the dusty windows
Into this room I adore,
Illuminating my anxious wings,
With Feathers made of fears and dreams.
So in love with them.

© Shinch3davinc3