6/11/15
It's a Thursday and I could barely even string the right sentences together. It's frustrating to have a whole world inside of you and not be able to grasp it with your fingers. I feel like some days I could let words easily swallow me up, turning me inside out. Those days I'm a voyager at sea, a . Those days I could distinguish the color of your eyes, the warmest brown I've ever seen. I can easily let myself go because I trust myself. Then there are days when I feel like a blank canvas. Days that seem so alive and real but everything is inanimate and I couldn't feel the wind. Those days I barely see you and I forget. What were the color of your eyes again? was it the color of desolation, of beauty and illusions?
It's a Thursday and I could barely even string the right sentences together. It's frustrating to have a whole world inside of you and not be able to grasp it with your fingers. I feel like some days I could let words easily swallow me up, turning me inside out. Those days I'm a voyager at sea, a . Those days I could distinguish the color of your eyes, the warmest brown I've ever seen. I can easily let myself go because I trust myself. Then there are days when I feel like a blank canvas. Days that seem so alive and real but everything is inanimate and I couldn't feel the wind. Those days I barely see you and I forget. What were the color of your eyes again? was it the color of desolation, of beauty and illusions?
