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blurry
J,
remembering you is like recalling a dream from last week:
hazy, tinged with yearning.
Do you see now?
My love is not magical nor heroic;
it cannot paint the sky,
it doesn't invigoratingly flourish for long.
It'll never wait—it moves.
And I will never fight
for something I have to share.
remembering you is like recalling a dream from last week:
hazy, tinged with yearning.
Do you see now?
My love is not magical nor heroic;
it cannot paint the sky,
it doesn't invigoratingly flourish for long.
It'll never wait—it moves.
And I will never fight
for something I have to share.
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