I’m a little tired, I’ll just rest my head on those shoulders, and I must tell you, that i write with a cold heart that just wants to feel warm.
I have dreams and goals that seem unrealistic but what have i got to lose by dreaming about a day when the moon follows me home.
I’ll move out of this city where people do the same crap every single day and pretend that it’s okay, that this is it. We’ll work until we’re grey, get that money and go on vacations while we’re fragile and all I’m doing is watching this cycle repeating from the sidelines, I’m never really involved even though the world revolves; I’m just here standing still.
There’s got to be more to life, you mentioned that a few times and we might get to make more memories who knows but in this memory, we’re young forever. In this memory, I write down every little detail because I don’t care. In this memory, I dance with you until the moon finally explains itself to us in entirety. I’m full because of you, I’m empty because of you. In this memory, the metaphors never run out and the poetry isn’t just about love, it’s not about sadness anymore, it’s about clawing my way out of my thoughts and back into a moment where I’m whole.
I am the wildfire, and I’ll spread in many directions. I just hope that we never burn down together and if we do, that wouldn’t be so bad, right?