I saw a tree made of Hangul the other day. I should have taken a picture, maybe a polaroid, but no camera sees my perspective. I sat with my friends and thought of nothing as the sun's warm, uncomfortable, dying light tried to blind me. Even though it would be a poetic last sight, I did not think to blind myself. I thought of discomfort as if I didn't feel it. I listened to every song, but they were too loud and felt misplaced. I silently wished for something without words. Funny how music can become versatile if you let it, though.
Sometimes the world seems black and white even when it's not. I forget the colors are there; does it mean they aren't? Now I'm thinking about every color I see, but I still don't say things like 'green, blue, magenta, turquoise,' or 'lilac' in my head.
I'm chewing the gum I had on the plane. I never liked it because the mint bites at my tongue like a mad dog, but it was sitting right there. It tastes the same. I can't help wanting to remember the time Earth was magical, even if it means having this discomfort. That night flight made me weightless, and even I wanted a hand to grasp, preferably yours. My face probably looked childish, but no one was awake to watch or listen. The lights looked like a field of stars; it was too beautiful, and I almost cried. I wanted to sing for the stars very badly, but when we came down they were only lamps of such a small people and I almost cried for a different reason entirely.
It's kind of like the time we went swimming in the rain. When we looked above and saw the ripples of the rain drops, but never feeling them. They looked like halos haloing your floating hair. It was like some other universe entirely. Maybe we could do it again someday and we can be space royalty, or angels. You looked like an angel on that day, but I probably didn't. I'm surprised the lightning didn't strike me, even if there was no storm. At least the lightning would leave lovely scars.
Anyway, I still get the feeling I felt in those places when I see the stars on a night drive. It's not exactly the same, because the stars are much different from some street lights; it reminds me there is something bigger. That's the point isn't it? I still wish for you to be there. We should do it sometime, but hoping it will be there and planning are two different things. If you plan it don't tell me, or I won't go, and I will cry out of spite.
If you sing for the stars, I'm sure they will listen.
Sometimes the world seems black and white even when it's not. I forget the colors are there; does it mean they aren't? Now I'm thinking about every color I see, but I still don't say things like 'green, blue, magenta, turquoise,' or 'lilac' in my head.
I'm chewing the gum I had on the plane. I never liked it because the mint bites at my tongue like a mad dog, but it was sitting right there. It tastes the same. I can't help wanting to remember the time Earth was magical, even if it means having this discomfort. That night flight made me weightless, and even I wanted a hand to grasp, preferably yours. My face probably looked childish, but no one was awake to watch or listen. The lights looked like a field of stars; it was too beautiful, and I almost cried. I wanted to sing for the stars very badly, but when we came down they were only lamps of such a small people and I almost cried for a different reason entirely.
It's kind of like the time we went swimming in the rain. When we looked above and saw the ripples of the rain drops, but never feeling them. They looked like halos haloing your floating hair. It was like some other universe entirely. Maybe we could do it again someday and we can be space royalty, or angels. You looked like an angel on that day, but I probably didn't. I'm surprised the lightning didn't strike me, even if there was no storm. At least the lightning would leave lovely scars.
Anyway, I still get the feeling I felt in those places when I see the stars on a night drive. It's not exactly the same, because the stars are much different from some street lights; it reminds me there is something bigger. That's the point isn't it? I still wish for you to be there. We should do it sometime, but hoping it will be there and planning are two different things. If you plan it don't tell me, or I won't go, and I will cry out of spite.
If you sing for the stars, I'm sure they will listen.
