This is what distance (confusion mostly) looks like in times new roman
I wrote this close to the end. I didn’t even bother editing or finishing it because I was no longer in the same place that I was when I began to write it. I think I may have even written this while drunk, I don’t know. I just needed to post something and this happened to be sitting in the dark corners of my laptop. It is an incomplete post but it makes some kind of sense... hopefully. A lame piece but a piece nonetheless.
He is infinite and perfect, a mouthful of holy prayers written in the name of love. Words are never enough when I think of him, the do not begin to describe the glory of his greatness.
When we are together, they stare (at him mostly) with this longing look in their eyes, like they know the Soul of the World breathes through him.
He is a full orchestra and I am hypnotized by his devilish symphony.
He is the moon and I am the midnight tide, brought to shore by his promise to return.
I am envious of the freedom that the wind has, she can dance around his heavenly body and sweep through his desert whilst I am here wondering if he’s wondering about me.
Anahata is sitting with her back towards us, tallying how many times I have drowned in his skin, I think she has lost count
I’ve loved to the point of confusion, never thinking in full, just fragmentary.sentences,punctuated.by.the.thought.of.you