bloomingdark
Alex
- Jan 24, 2019
- 170
Feeling this passion that eats away at me even in my most recondite fragments. What do you want from this?
Will I be real in your mind? , the one that blooms under the arches of my thought.
A thousand poems will not be enough to hook again this series of reasoning so sudden and full of emotion, everything reminds me of blurred dreams, many dreams, magnitudes, lost in the ocean of memory, even so, scenes return to my arms, when yours surrounds me complacent.
I hope that tune of the insipid Tuesday does not move away from this restless and old oak that I call heart, I am perhaps another product of the universal framework, conditioned to the routine and personal contempt that day to day brings with it and the little candid variety of the exist, but in my dreams with you, I dance, eternally in a small house in the mountains, a tiny radio and a soft melody, make being on earth, the most sublime and ethereal experience that my human soul has been able to be conceived, finally the act of breathing feels belonging and reciprocated, in that scene that can only be conceived correctly from the inside, I feel free to finally be the dancing nothingness, to feel that a breeze can snatch everything from me is no longer a variant of thought, I gave myself to the desire to merge, illusively with whom guided my steps and took my waist, that day lonely nostalgia would take the farthest path because before the two of us shared the compass of the same breath and the consciousness of the eternal.
After that dream, I came to the realization of the significance that romance has in me, my limitations are confronted when I feel, so much and so strangely, that my own conscience can barely tolerate it, loving him that way, brokes into a thousand pieces my ego, gives me the feeling, of a lonely concert performer, witnessing under her fingers the apology for connection, for romance, in its purest and wildest state, with no one to witness her notes, rather than her thoughts.
The disturbance of that does not allow its trace to be lost, it manages to link the heart with sharp roots, which instead of causing any damage, make its heartbeat have a purpose.
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Pd:he did not care at all when I sent it :/
Will I be real in your mind? , the one that blooms under the arches of my thought.
A thousand poems will not be enough to hook again this series of reasoning so sudden and full of emotion, everything reminds me of blurred dreams, many dreams, magnitudes, lost in the ocean of memory, even so, scenes return to my arms, when yours surrounds me complacent.
I hope that tune of the insipid Tuesday does not move away from this restless and old oak that I call heart, I am perhaps another product of the universal framework, conditioned to the routine and personal contempt that day to day brings with it and the little candid variety of the exist, but in my dreams with you, I dance, eternally in a small house in the mountains, a tiny radio and a soft melody, make being on earth, the most sublime and ethereal experience that my human soul has been able to be conceived, finally the act of breathing feels belonging and reciprocated, in that scene that can only be conceived correctly from the inside, I feel free to finally be the dancing nothingness, to feel that a breeze can snatch everything from me is no longer a variant of thought, I gave myself to the desire to merge, illusively with whom guided my steps and took my waist, that day lonely nostalgia would take the farthest path because before the two of us shared the compass of the same breath and the consciousness of the eternal.
After that dream, I came to the realization of the significance that romance has in me, my limitations are confronted when I feel, so much and so strangely, that my own conscience can barely tolerate it, loving him that way, brokes into a thousand pieces my ego, gives me the feeling, of a lonely concert performer, witnessing under her fingers the apology for connection, for romance, in its purest and wildest state, with no one to witness her notes, rather than her thoughts.
The disturbance of that does not allow its trace to be lost, it manages to link the heart with sharp roots, which instead of causing any damage, make its heartbeat have a purpose.
----------------------
Pd:he did not care at all when I sent it :/
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