The term soulmates has always flown about, scarf-like, through the whims of youth--as if tethered to some mythical upshot of the essence of life. But I know the truth.
Oh, how they will tell tales of us, My Dear! How the pallid wash of grey-stone was enough to curse her alabaster heart. Perhaps they will liken me to a whisping strands of light caught thrashing against the estrangement of midnight. Oh, and in those stories she will be agile. One minute: a fragmented piece of daylight wrapped up in the twinkling tide, her lungs, laces undone, crashing against the dawn. The next smooth and prefaced like water droplets seconds before wetting the tongue. Yes she, in all her prose, would go about french kissing thunder behind mother's nature back. …show more content…
"Tell me he doesn't love me."
Of course Wisdom would not reply. To ignite this conversation would render her spirit futile! And because the words weren't said, the fragmented light would discard wisdom's silence as indifference and go about making love to the undertow of beastly truths. Always tasting fog. Yet, one fragmented light can only be saturated so long before the fade begins. The day would come when the inky stain of blotted silence would undoubtedly catch wind of her. There is no place for daylight here... The undisclosed wind would soar between her emaciated sheen, moving her homeward toward dawn.
"I implore you, unwavering cloak. Let her be," The Night sky would moan. Its unearthly-meander spilling into the earth below. "Tell me I do not love the evidence of dawn!" but the wind's mouth does not converse, it only whispers the truth--should you listen. Should you have ears to hear,"tell me she doesn't love me!" Limbless. Formless. As if a breath! The fragmented light threw her arms about the night sky! Spilling her luminosity into form... Bleeding, as the wind scraped her toward the morning, like an internal shiver never to be …show more content…
What a wild and unrested-thing he was without her! Thunder scratched from the throes of his torment. Lightning gilded his ghostly drone. She was fleeting, but his pain overthrew her. There would be nothing left to do, but declare unto the writ of the divine her... heart. Spill it out. Tell the truth.
Nearly silent she swept against the gale-force, untouched by the incisions of his fury. As individuals saw only discrepancy in his formation, she maneuvered the stars as if they were painted for her. None of their majesty beguiled nor dispelled the blighted underbelly of the warm promise of tomorrow. Appropriately, she perched at the days conclusion, enfolding her fragment of light into the centerfold of the Night sky. "I will-not leave you," her words quelled the storm. Then, with one singular she circumvented her love--relenting the beast from the pangs of never. Breathing him to the absolution of forever.
Yes, Dear Lovely, when they write about us--this is how they will say the moon came to be born. The story of a fragmented piece of light who once fell in love with the Night Sky.
That fragmented piece of me that had the audacity to go star gazing within the confines of you...
And you kept her. You kept her, and you made her the
Oh, how they will tell tales of us, My Dear! How the pallid wash of grey-stone was enough to curse her alabaster heart. Perhaps they will liken me to a whisping strands of light caught thrashing against the estrangement of midnight. Oh, and in those stories she will be agile. One minute: a fragmented piece of daylight wrapped up in the twinkling tide, her lungs, laces undone, crashing against the dawn. The next smooth and prefaced like water droplets seconds before wetting the tongue. Yes she, in all her prose, would go about french kissing thunder behind mother's nature back. …show more content…
"Tell me he doesn't love me."
Of course Wisdom would not reply. To ignite this conversation would render her spirit futile! And because the words weren't said, the fragmented light would discard wisdom's silence as indifference and go about making love to the undertow of beastly truths. Always tasting fog. Yet, one fragmented light can only be saturated so long before the fade begins. The day would come when the inky stain of blotted silence would undoubtedly catch wind of her. There is no place for daylight here... The undisclosed wind would soar between her emaciated sheen, moving her homeward toward dawn.
"I implore you, unwavering cloak. Let her be," The Night sky would moan. Its unearthly-meander spilling into the earth below. "Tell me I do not love the evidence of dawn!" but the wind's mouth does not converse, it only whispers the truth--should you listen. Should you have ears to hear,"tell me she doesn't love me!" Limbless. Formless. As if a breath! The fragmented light threw her arms about the night sky! Spilling her luminosity into form... Bleeding, as the wind scraped her toward the morning, like an internal shiver never to be …show more content…
What a wild and unrested-thing he was without her! Thunder scratched from the throes of his torment. Lightning gilded his ghostly drone. She was fleeting, but his pain overthrew her. There would be nothing left to do, but declare unto the writ of the divine her... heart. Spill it out. Tell the truth.
Nearly silent she swept against the gale-force, untouched by the incisions of his fury. As individuals saw only discrepancy in his formation, she maneuvered the stars as if they were painted for her. None of their majesty beguiled nor dispelled the blighted underbelly of the warm promise of tomorrow. Appropriately, she perched at the days conclusion, enfolding her fragment of light into the centerfold of the Night sky. "I will-not leave you," her words quelled the storm. Then, with one singular she circumvented her love--relenting the beast from the pangs of never. Breathing him to the absolution of forever.
Yes, Dear Lovely, when they write about us--this is how they will say the moon came to be born. The story of a fragmented piece of light who once fell in love with the Night Sky.
That fragmented piece of me that had the audacity to go star gazing within the confines of you...
And you kept her. You kept her, and you made her the