the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses

“somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond
any experience, your eyes have their silence:
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
or which i cannot touch because they are too near

your slightest look easily will unclose me
though i have closed myself as fingers,
you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens
(touching skilfully, mysteriously) her first rose

or if your wish be to close me, i and
my life will shut very beautifully, suddenly,
as when the heart of this flower imagines
the snow carefully everywhere descending;

nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
the power of your intense fragility: whose texture
compels me with the colour of its countries,
rendering death and forever with each breathing

(i do not know what it is about you that closes
and opens; only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands”

—  E E Cummings
somewhere i have never travelled,gladly beyond
any experience,your eyes have their silence:
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
or which i cannot touch because they are too near

your slightest look easily will unclose me
though i have closed myself as fingers,
you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens
(touching skilfully,mysteriously)her first rose

or if your wish be to close me,i and
my life will shut very beautifully,suddenly,
as when the heart of this flower imagines
the snow carefully everywhere descending;

nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
the power of your intense fragility:whose texture
compels me with the colour of its countries,
rendering death and forever with each breathing

(i do not know what it is about you that closes
and opens;only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
nobody,not even the rain,has such small hands
—  e. e. cummings, “somewhere i have never travelled,gladly beyond”
Somewhere I have never travelled - E. E. Cummings

Somewhere I have never travelled, gladly beyond
any experience, your eyes have their silence:
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
or which I cannot touch because they are too near

your slightest look easily will unclose me though i have closed myself as fingers,
you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens
(touching skilfully, mysteriously)her first rose

or if your wish be to close me, I and
my life will shut very beautifully, suddenly,
as when the heart of this flower imagines the snow carefully everywhere descending;

nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
the power of your intense fragility: whose texture
compels me with the colour of its countries, rendering death and forever with each breathing

(I do not know what it is about you that closes and opens;
only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)                                               nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands

Dance With Me?

Jimin x Reader
1180 words

Part 2

You were in the studio again, practicing a personal dance piece that had been stuck in your head for a week ever since you heard “All That”. It inspired such passion when you listened to it, dances flowed through your mind, but it felt like it wasn’t working completely, something was off. You had danced to it every day after practice once everyone had left. You were a trainee at BigHit for a few years now. You came into the company at an older age than most kids these days, so you knew you had to work harder than all the others. So you spent all day training with your group members and then at night practiced alone and sometimes worked on your own choreography. You didn’t like dancing your own pieces in front of others. It made you self-conscious for some reason, like you were naked in front of a crowd.

As you turned and moved, flashes of a face slipped in your mind.

You twirled out and you imagined him at the end of your hand, holding it.

That’s what it needed, a partner, to really express the passion and romance in the words of the song. You closed your eyes as you moved, rewriting the moves in your mind with a partner this time. You were so engrossed in the music and the feel of the beat. The sway of your hips were aided by his hands. You turned your head to the side and it was his hand that caressed it.

Your eyes were closed the whole time, so when warm hands lightly grabbed your sides, you yelped loudly.

“YAH! J-JIMIN! What are you doing?”

You could see his reflection in the mirror across from you as your eyes snapped open in surprise. His body was flush against your back and radiated warmth onto you.

“I’m sorry if I scared you, noona. I saw you practice for the last couple of days. It looks like your dance needs a partner..” said Jimin. His face was intense but you didn’t see any mockery in his slight smile.

“Well.. yes. I had been thinking about that. In my mind there is another beside me. I think the song would fit two people better, since its so romantic… “ you could feel your face blush with heat. This was embarrassing. He was so close and he had been watching you dance?! You avoided his stare and looked at the wall as you casually separated from him.

“…but I don’t have anybody to dance with..” you trailed off, still avoiding his gaze.

“Why not me?!” he exclaimed with wide eyes.

“im the best dancer in Bangtan, you know.” He said with a smirk. “See?”

He proceeded to pop, lock and gyrate his body while making silly faces at you. You couldn’t help yourself, his expressions and exaggerated body movements were so ridiculous, that you burst out laughing. The nervous tension in your shoulders lessened as you laughed. When he heard your loud, unrestrained laugh, he smiled so big that his eyes disappeared. His smile was incredible, it was so bright it blinded you.

 You loved that smile

Even thought you were slightly older than Jimin, you had entered the company after him. His age didn’t bother you though. His personality and energy always left a carefree smile on your face and melted your worries and stress from your body. On the few occasions that the two of you had talked, I always left you feeling happy and warm. In more ways than one.

“Well, um. I guess if you want to, you can..” you smiled at him shyly. “I still haven’t worked it out completely though..”

“That’s okay. I’m sure im good enough to help you finish it” he raised his eyebrows and wiggled them at you suggestively.

“Hah! Ever the confident one, aren’t you jimin?” you flirted back.  Wait, did you really just say that?

“Always.” He quipped

You shook your head slightly to disrupt your thoughts, and proceeded to explain what you could see in your mind.

“Okay. Well, at the beginning im alone, and then you join me seamlessly as if you were there all along.” You explained.

“You join in at the secondjust let me in your arms” part, okay?” you asked him, raising your eyebrows

He nodded yes, the focus clear on his face.

“When you join, wrap your arms around mine, and hold my hand. At the “show me..” part, spin me out and well go from there”, I instructed nervously.

“Yes, I’ve seen you dance this before. I think I know what to do…”

The thought of his arms around me were… nerve-racking to say the least. Why does this younger boy make me heart race to fast for comfort?

I quickly walked back to my phone and restarted the song that had already ended minutes ago and rejoined Jimin at the center of the studio, facing the mirror. My pink face grew even redder as he stared at me intensely through the reflection. The music started and I focused on my limbs moving them smoothly to the music just as I had imagined. When it came time, Jimin joined me and did just as I had instructed. His hands trailed across my hot skin, leaving searing trails in their wake. His strong arms spun me out and back in to his chest and swayed me in time. Our bodies continued to move with each other, the sound of our breathing mixing with the bass and drums. As we danced, our eyes met continuously, and my gaze fell to his lips. They were slightly parted and plump. They looked so soft and inviting.

As we progressed, Jimin added his own moves to mine adding even more sensuality and passion. Hand slid up my sides, they tilted my head towards his, and caressed my cheek. I closed my eyes at his touch, wanting even more.

The song ended and all that was left were our bodies, still pressed against each other, and our breathy pants. My pulse was racing and I wasn’t sure if it was from exertion or.. JImin.

His chest rose and fell in time to mine and and his eyes were dark and hot as they bored into my soul.

“Jimin.” Pant “that was…” pant. You couldn’t catch your breath with him looking at you like that.

“Y/N” he moaned. His voice deeper and rougher than you ever heard it.

You were surprised that he didn’t call you noona like he usually does.

With a playful slap to his chest, you part from him and say

 “Y/N?” have you forgotten that your..” but JImin didn’t let you finish as he grabbed your arms and pulled back to him and enveloped your lips with his. You blinked with shock but soon relaxed into him and brought your hand up around his neck, pulling him closer to you. Wow. Starbursts exploded behind your closed eyes and made your head fizzy and light.

He broke the kiss first, sucking in oxygen.

“J-Jimin?…”

nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands: e.e. cummings

somewhere i have never traveled, gladly beyond
any experience, your eyes have their silence:
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
or which i cannot touch because they are too near


your slightest look easily will unclose me
though i have closed myself as fingers,
you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens
(touching skilfully, mysteriously) her first rose


or if your wish be to close me, i and
my life will shut very beautifully, suddenly,
as when the heart of this flower imagines
the snow carefully everywhere descending;


nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
the power of your intense fragility: whose texture
compels me with the colour of its countries,
rendering death and forever with each breathing


(i do not know what it is about you that closes
and opens;only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands



nadie, ni siquiera la lluvia, tiene unas manos tan pequeñas

tu mirada más leve me abrirá sin esfuerzo
aunque me haya cerrado como unos dedos,
tú siempre me abres pétalo a pétalo como abre la primavera
(tocando hábil, misteriosamente) su primera rosa.

o si tu deseo fuera cerrarme, yo y mi vida
nos cerraremos muy delicadamente, de repente,
como cuando el corazón de esta flor imagina
la nieve cayendo cuidadosamente por todas partes;

nada de lo que podamos percibir en este mundo iguala
el poder de tu inmensa fragilidad: su textura
me domina con el color de sus países,
produciendo muerte y eternidad a cada latido

(no sé qué hay en ti que se cierra
y se abre; pero algo en mí comprende
que la voz de tus ojos es más profunda que todas las rosas)
nadie, ni siquiera la lluvia, tiene unas manos tan pequeñas.


Edward Estlin Cummings

Born: October 14, 1894        
Cambridge, Massachusetts        
Died: September 3, 1962        
North Conway, New Hampshire      
     



somewhere i have never travelled,gladly beyond
any experience,your eyes have their silence:
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
or which i cannot touch because they are too near

your slightest look easily will unclose me
though i have closed myself as fingers,
you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens
(touching skilfully,mysteriously) her first rose

or if your wish be to close me, i and
my life will shut very beautifully ,suddenly,
as when the heart of this flower imagines
the snow carefully everywhere descending;

nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
the power of your intense fragility:whose texture
compels me with the color of its countries,
rendering death and forever with each breathing

(i do not know what it is about you that closes
and opens;only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
nobody,not even the rain, has such small hands.
—  somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond - e e cummings

somewhere i have never travelled,gladly beyond
any experience,your eyes have their silence:
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
or which i cannot touch because they are too near

your slightest look easily will unclose me
though i have closed myself as fingers,
you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens
(touching skilfully,mysteriously)her first rose

or if your wish be to close me,i and
my life will shut very beautifully,suddenly,
as when the heart of this flower imagines
the snow carefully everywhere descending;

nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
the power of your intense fragility:whose texture
compels me with the colour of its countries,
rendering death and forever with each breathing

(i do not know what it is about you that closes
and opens;only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
nobody,not even the rain,has such small hands

—  somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond, E. E. Cummings
(i do not know what it is about you that closes
and opens;only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
nobody,not even the rain,has such small hands
—  E.E. Cummings
'here, hear' songs for the signs - la dispute
  • aries: eleven // it was falling asleep at the wheel while awake. it was wasting away; delay the promise of heartache, it was tracing the chest to the arm to the hand that’s been wielding a knife and trying to cut our dreams in pieces but we’ll be fine.
  • taurus: eight // And finally, I realized that I had found what I was looking for, without ever being quite sure what it was. I found a story that would make my own life make sense again. this story.
  • gemini: six // it echoes in the wild and limited universe of man. it teaches that all is not, has not been, exhausted. all Sisyphus' silent joy is contained therein. his fate belongs to him. the rock is still rolling.
  • cancer: two // I do not know what it is about you that closes and opens; only something in me understands the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses. nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands
  • leo: ten // I have tried hard to stay hopeful in the moments they cut ropes to set you free. I have always tried to point the finger elsewhere. this time it points to me. but it doesn’t bother me at all.
  • virgo: four // unable to reconcile with that anger, the great king banished each of the lovers to opposite sides of the great river, allowing them only to meet once each year: on the seventh day of the seventh month. on that day, a ferryman would carry the shepherd boy across the river to the princess, and return him home at day's end. however, if the princess has not fulfilled her obligations at the loom the king floods the river, and the two can not meet.
  • libra: three // I was a child and she was a child, in that princedom by the sea. but we loved with a love that was more than just love, with a love even the seraphs up in heaven covet.
  • scorpio: five // And before I have been listening to symphony after symphony from this radio. it makes me realize that certain people now long dead were able to transgress graveyards and traps and cages and bones and limbs. in tiny rented rooms I was struck by miracles
  • sagittarius: one // Albert Camus wrote that the only serious question is whether to kill yourself or not. Tom Robbins wrote that the only serious question is whether time has a beginning and an end. Camus clearly got up on the wrong side of bed, and Robbins must have forgotten to set the alarm.
  • capricorn: twelve // but we're so tired of when we don't make mistakes. but things get torn away. and we're so scared of losing faith that we can't put things back together when they break.
  • aquarius: nine // remember not our faulty pieces, remember not our rusted parts, it's not the petty imperfections that define us but the way we hold our hearts
  • pisces: seven // and when tired at last, he sat on the bank, while the river chattered on to him - a babbling procession of the best stories in the world, sent from the heart of the earth to be told at last to the insatiable sea.
somewhere i have never travelled,gladly beyond
any experience,your eyes have their silence:
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
or which i cannot touch because they are too near

your slightest look easily will unclose me
though i have closed myself as fingers,
you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens
(touching skilfully,mysteriously)her first rose

or if your wish be to close me,i and
my life will shut very beautifully,suddenly,
as when the heart of this flower imagines
the snow carefully everywhere descending;

nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
the power of your intense fragility:whose texture
compels me with the colour of its countries,
rendering death and forever with each breathing

(i do not know what it is about you that closes
and opens;only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
nobody,not even the rain,has such small hands
—  e.e. cummings from “somewhere i have never travelled,gladly beyond”