My wish is that these words could talk for my heart, I hope these words spark in you a love so deep, The message from the deep desires of my heart i entrust this piece to deliver, For my desire for you goes deeper than the oceans.
In that other world, i am the joy in your tears, But here, my closest to you is in my slumber events, Now i don't know where else to go, because am lost in your love, For my desire for you goes deeper than the oceans.
I only imagine the brightness and sparkle in your eyes, When i pour out my entire heart, and read you my these words myself, And get you to hold me so dear, closer to every beat of your heart, For my desire for you goes deeper than the oceans.
My wish is that I can light up your world with a thousand suns, letting your soul glow with mine in the darkness we surrounded ourselves in, the deepest of trenches will lose to me, for my desire for you goes deeper than the oceans.
In the other world, I was the music in your silence, the rain in your drought, now hands tied I'm watching with closed eyes, the clouds don't hide the sun as much as your love wraps me up, for my desire for you goes deeper than the oceans.
I only imagine the echos of love, when I feel your reflection in my eyes, images flashing by, wet eyelashes blinding my vision, look at me one last time my darling, for my desire for you goes deeper than the oceans.
It was midnight, when half the world was asleep, but there was a girl who clutching on to the blankets wrapped around her body, her eyes were betraying her and she knew it all too well, the hustle of the wind humming through her world that was dimming. Her eyes were filled with the terror that never passed, though years have; teeth chattering, eyes watering and voice wavering, her mind was crawling back into the darkness, seeking the safety of its shadows. Speaking to herself, lying to herself that it was all going to be alright. But it was midnight, when people and nightmares were still awake, realization dawned upon her shaking self, alone was she in a room with no exits, her screams would close in on her, the echos too loud she wouldn't be able to bear them; time stood still and she was at her own mercy, her own past that tormented her every single day that she grew tired of herself. Her thoughts stayed in her mind, afraid that the world would blame her at the nook of time. After all, his touch burned her skin, its impact still bragging its win, not out of passion but the commotion of not fighting back, being frozen like time that now, she is a puzzle with so many pieces missing, for she has been hiding them well beneath her smiles.
Breaking rules was my speciality, with life all written down for me, I wanted to outdo myself, fly just once before I'll be caged again, only then, I won't be able to sneak out for a walk at night, when the blues and blacks mix together, when the violets and pinks fade away, little was my world that I couldn't even twirl in the room I had. So I broke some rules, quietly and tactfully, without a trace I walked back home, to be locked again. I loved the taste of freedom and wanted to savor it a little while longer, I loved that my tears met the wind outside, chilling the skin just like my heart. I've seen the world with different eyes that now there is no more turning back, but a voice always makes me stop, stooping as low as ignoring it's vibrations ringing in my ears, but the past triggered for me to stiffen, head back and erase my mistakes in the name of freedom. I've become a sinner as quietly as I could but it's impact is resonating throughout the space I'm caged in. Now leave before someone sees you, you cannot rescue a caged bird, I shan't fly anymore...
Tired, I feel drained, weight of your sins weighing me down, I can't get up so give me a hand, I feel the tingles of my body going rigid. I want to feel the warmth of your hands on mine, don't want to let our fire die down, gotta live with this regret of leaving, gotta fight this urge of moving without your shadow shadowing mine on the streets. Lost of the colors you spilled, lost of the reflections you instilled, the water running down my body is laughing at the scars within, my fingers clasping onto my hair, grabbing on for dear life. Tears running trails of salt, gotta have a hold on myself, gotta keep life in a bookshelf, must go on without a trace of you. Must've listened to them, you're just a man with clouds of desire hanging above your head, I'm just a woman craving love as you carved electric touches, my garden full of roses are dying from the fire in your words, could've survived better, lost in the woods, gotta let this misery pass by, gotta battle as you lean in, build a wall so high it won't fall anymore.
One day, you'll become a memory that's fading at the back of my mind, the tears and smiles all resting in the past. Your features only a blur, as I struggle to draw an outline of your devilish beauty, your traits barely in sight of vision. Slowly the threads and wires binding us together will fall apart into loose strands of decaying muck. Sparks and fireworks that flew about will become puzzles of a mysterious jigsaw, and I'm sure I'd be lazy enough not to try and put those pieces together. Please forgive me if I don't recognise you when you smile at me, I'll be damned to know that you are hidden beneath layers of memories. Don't hold my hand, don't let me lay on you lap, don't answer my meaningless questions. Read this poem day and night, be the sound in my silence, the pitter to my patter. A day will come when my eyes stop dancing to your music, lips stop splitting when you crack a joke, We'll be strangers with a history that was forgotten. The cold summers and warm winters with you will be lost with the wind, I'll... What was I saying again? I'm sorry, but do I know you?
Change has wrapped it's arms around me, good or bad, I'd rather not bother. The gravity of change is pulling me into a dimension I resisted throughout many lonely years. Definitions shifted and feelings looked back at dark times I'd rather not speak about. Given an opportunity I could turn back, reverse and wash, cleanse myself to be blank again; What has changed, that I've become humanly and full of emotions? I miss the void that doesn't reside within my soul, a longing, aching that I could find that beautiful abyss once again, just to explore it's depths one last time. Change, It's happening right now as I write every line, the void dissipating, evaporating with my words. I've tossed and turned to know the answer, but with its wings spread wide, I'm flying with it, only enjoying the view from up above. My candles are waning with a quiet warning, that I must stop over thinking opportunities, so now I'll stop with these three dots...
I picked you up from the deepest ocean, and darling, I won't let you go, for your fire will burn the ocean all together. The swirls of emotion circling your eyes have me waiting; You've got me now and forever, a slave to the bubbles of laughter frothing from you, shower me with them and fill my heart with the joy of leaving with no regrets. I will not shine like poetry from the dark, but camouflage with the petals of the black rose you gave me the other day. Another word slicing me, making me wince dramatically. I'm truthfully tired of even extending my arms to embrace you. But worry not, I won't let you go, for your fire is what keeps me burning.
All of a sudden, You cry out of no particular reason. People ask, You say nothing . Then they assume. Then they misunderstand you. Then you shout out of frustration. You create problems out of your problems. Then they misunderstand you again for shouting. Then again you try to say nothing. Then you cry again. Then you feel sorry for shouting for no reason. But you never say sorry for that . Then again you are misunderstood. And this keeps running in circles.
Beauty I'd always missed With these eyes before, Just what the truth is I can't say anymore." ... ♪♪♪
~~~ I can recall many letters I've written, never meaning to send... I have a creative love of writing, with an even more deep love of reading. Especially poetry.
Writing and reading go together: > It is like a reflex, an act of the essence of living, for me... Breathing in and breathing out. (a.k.a. … 'inhale, and exhale')
Why hold one's creative breath?
Writing is to capture and create a moment. Writing to convey a moment; of, thought, emotion, concern? Oh, YES!
Writing could be just a way to record 'data' for so many other people. Day to day, on the job, or in the classroom.
... Yes, just 'data'. Info., stuff.
Perhaps, like this; Stuff: #1... A 'to-do' list. #2... A grocery shopping list. #3... A lab report for school.
Functional writing... yep. It's all good. Zzz... snooze. Could you agree?
However; or rather. Instead of? CREATIVE, heart-felt writing? Just for the shear guts of it... Zzzing!
Once again, cue the melody... ~~~
♪♪♪ "Gazing at people, Some hand in hand, Just what I'm going through They can't understand.
... Some try to tell me Thoughts they cannot defend, Just what you want to be You will be in the end,"... ♪♪♪
~~~ I have a confession. Most of all the letters I have written go somewhere, and certainly to someone.
And isn't it so special to have that someone write to you in response? Yes.
Yet, it is with those letters I've written... never meaning to send. Hah.
They remain like vivid dreams to me. Pure guts of my very own expression. My very own mindful energy impulses of my deepest, most well-intended soulful gathering of confidential meanings.
Written all out, laid out in line and phrases... with absolutely not sending it to; anyone. Like the best song written ever; yet, with no band to play it, nor an audience to ever hear ever a single note. A letter written, never meaning to send...
Even so, it is a letter. A letter to someone, if not to ultimately be addressed only to that timid, polite, over-rationalized creative bubble machine of a character, deep within all writers. It is the blank pages to be written upon if only within our own hearts. And it is a feeling that is only known inside ourselves.
It is a release! It is a spark, a burning in the soul. Would it hurt more to not write it out? Maybe so. Yet these letters are rare to me. So rare on the inside of me. And, 9 times out of 10. About raw love. (Uncertain to express into the open / yet, so certain within.) And I know this is a percentage only. I have not written anywhere near 9 or 10 letters written, never meaning to send.
My heart is big, yet shy, selective inside. So, 90% is it. 'data' of my only heart. mine. alone.
••• The reference of my inspiration: • Song: 'Nights in White Satin' • Song lyric: ♪♪♪ ... "Letters I've written, never meaning to send." ... ♪♪♪ • Band: The Moody Blues • Album: Days of Future Passed; 1967 ••• (Image from Pinterest: album artwork of 'The Moody Blues') ••••• Thank you Carolyn, for this creative community challenge!