Wandering Mind, Wandering Soul.

I am not a writer. I am not an artist. These are just things I want to express.
runawaymess:

happy couple.

I want this kind of love, i miss these kids.

runawaymess:

happy couple.

I want this kind of love, i miss these kids.

runawaymess:

flower child

one of my favorite photos i’ve taken

runawaymess:

flower child

one of my favorite photos i’ve taken

My body is the garden of my soul.

—Listening/Mediating to Deepak C. While my friends sleep in my bed peacefully (:

I don’t know if she could look anyone in the eyes, not even her own

Here’s a rambling, always flawed, always full of shit, so here’s a story, here’s something, and as always because our lives are so very revolved around our own personal feelings, our own history, our own life, i’ll give you a story that is about me, it was a dream, it was a reality, it was a story. it’s everything, it’s nothing, ramble on…

I don’t really know what this is..but…yeeahh.

April.1.2011.

—“She could never look me in the eyes.” Such an expressionless look on his face, as he looked out the window, stirring his coffee that had gone cold. “I don’t know if she could look anyone in the eyes, not even her own.” 

He sat in a pale blue chair, eyes open wide, just staring into space. “I’ve had thousands thoughts unspoken, hundreds of dreams unheard, wasting the stars on wishes, And, I’d look into the sky wishing for her.”

He kept taking such deep breaths, and rubbing his arm back and forth. 

— “I could get lost in her mind, she made me forget about time, about money, about pain. We just were, but that wasn’t enough for her.” 

He fumbled his fingers, moving his watch, laughing silently, “Time, there is too much, there is not enough. It’s wasted, it’s destroyed, time spent, time earned. it’s madness, I would find myself wishing for more, hoping for less. And never just accepting it all as it is.” 

He looked up at her and asked, “Do you know what love is?”

She just quickly replied, —“Well…No.” 

He nodded, “What would you want it to be.”

She took a deep breath, just thinking. “What wouldn’t I want it to be? I’d want it to be everything. My everything. and, that’s when i’ll know it’s real, when I no longer fear. When my heart is open, when it feels true.  But I guess truth is something i’ve never known.”

He sat back in his chair, breathing in the air from the small breeze through the cracked window. 

“Truth’s a funny thing you see, you’ll ache for it, you’ll hide from it. But, it’s always there, whether in love, in thought, in spirit. It’s there. You have to find it, you have to make it.”

He never talked very often, they’d often spend visits just sitting, staring into space. His spoken voice had a raspy quality, She saw a lot of him in her. And, I think that always scared her shitless. Yet kept her coming back. He had hundreds of scars on his arms, she had so many questions in my mind, just never feeling brave.

“Why couldn’t she look you in the eyes.” He looked up at her, and she looked back down, and said, “sorry if you don’t want to talk about it.”

To her surpise, he smiled. 

“Pain. Pain does funny things to people. I guess it’s the fear you have of love, it was something that ran rampant through her veins, never trusting, just always having to be her. By herself, she couldn’t trust anyone else.”

He kept looking out that same window, you could see his longing to see what he once saw. The way he looked up at the trees, wishing to climb, to run. He took another deep breath.

“I remember there was this one spot that she always went to when shit was bad. Noone knew it, they didn’t sense it, she just couldn’t bare to let someone see her cry.”

“She’d sit amongst the trees, next to a waterfall, and think. counting, never understanding numbers, but finding them soothing. One day, I decided to go there,  and sit beside her. She’d finally opened up to me, after all we’d been through, all the memories. I heard what I needed to. We never had an intimate love, never something to write about, just a love.”

The girl began to notice small little things, she’d never seen in this room before, notebooks, paintings of mountains, pale skies, maps, worn photos in frames.

There was a silence that felt as if the world was still.

“June?”

“Yes.” She replied.

“If I can only be a whisper of hope, Keep walking, Keep loving, Keep going, never let a dream fade.”

He handed her a large envelope. Touched his hand as if to say goodbye. 

And, walked out onto the street. She outstretched her arms into the sky, feeling anew, a silent thank you.

She stumbled upon a bench  sat and began opening the envelope, finding a series of letters…love letters. They’d brought tears to her eyes, full of passion, real hope, much more than he had spoken of. She kept reading, the words were compelling her, she couldn’t stop, reaching the last page:

Dear June,

As time passes, and words will be forgotten, I wanted this to be known, You’ve helped mend an old broken heart. And, I want to give you a new start.

Always,

D.

She turned the page to find a check, and began weeping.

drunken words. all my poetry sucks.

drunken words. all my poetry sucks.