importantsubject

[importantsubject]

I miss you like I miss the winter in the summer

In the warmth of July's embrace,

I miss you like I miss the winter in the summer's grace.

Your absence, a chill that lingers,

As if snowflakes dance on sunlit fingers.

The sun, a blazing memory of your touch,

Yet my heart yearns for winter's clutch.

In the midst of flowers' bloom,

I ache for the frost that once filled the room.

Your laughter, a melody in the summer breeze,

Recalls the crisp air, the rustling of frozen trees.

I miss you like the snow misses the flame,

Longing for the cold in passion's name.

The heat of August, a reminder so stark,

Of the icicles that adorned the winter dark.

In the summer's fire, a longing takes flight,

For the frost-kissed moments of our winter night.

Though seasons change and time moves on,

The echo of winter's song in my heart is drawn.

I miss you like I miss the winter in the summer,

A yearning that time cannot encumber.

[importantsubject]

I yearn. I yearn for something that does not exist. My heart containing holes, the muscle around them pulsating looking for that space to be filled. Yet that space is not mine to fill.

I yearn. I yearn for something that does not exist. For someone that is not here and might never be. The holes in my heart growing bigger the more I'm aware of them. I can't help it. The yearning is too much. The yearning for someone to piece my heart together as it once was is too much.

I cannot beg and I cannot plead for there is no one to beg for. The hollow of my heart is me. Part of me. Has become me.

My thoughts aching thinking of a chance that a hand will reach out holding the missing pieces. But now. Now i realize that those pieces are lost. No hand will ever reach for me and no one will ever fill this void.

I yearn. I yearn for something that does not exist. Maybe it's me who I was actually yearning for. Begging myself to fill the holes while covering it with the idea of another person. Another free mind binding with mine. Another chance at life.

[importantsubject]

Beauty is the bane of my existence, taught at a young age and reflected in the mirror of your own mind. Beauty is a double edged sword, for it can give you a chance or make the nearest eyes despise you. Beauty is nothing but a facade covering your being. Blooming under the eyes of our world, entertaining your surroundings. We've been conditioned to be under the spotlight and stray not too far from the preset or you'll get boo'd off stage. I for one am against this, I will forever as I live boo the crowd instead, for the crowd is not worth entertaining and my mind not worth the misery of the blinding spotlight. The auditorium being a mere cover to make the pigs in seats look presentable.

[importantsubject]

"My mother forever the selfish greedy monster under my bed, and I forever her destined successor."

[importantsubject]

"I miss you like I miss the summer in the winter and the winter in the summer."

[importantsubject]

hmm. maybe u were put on this earth to make art and write bad poetry and create silly little playlists and being kind and maybe tearing up a little bit when you see old people eating alone

[importantsubject]

"There's a clock. It's idle. The clock's hands pointing down as if never having moved before. I pity them. For life is continuous just like a clock hands' movement is supposed to be."

[importantsubject]

"I yearn for love yet I am the one that disregards it, I desire it yet I am the one to cause myself the misfortune of being alone. But is being alone such a disgrace? It is what I've been told and taught but is it really such a shame for me to have no one at my side?"

Half of me thinks of the freeing feeling of being alone, isolated. The freedom of not having a watchful eye gaze in my direction, judging my actions. Yet I still think back to the times where my mother would embrace me, the warm sun shining on my skin as I hold her as tight as she held me.

Back then I had no worries. No fear of being mistreated. No fear of being played false. But that time is gone now. The people I once welcomed with love I now look at with watchful eyes. Maybe I fear not the gaze of others but they fear this gaze of mine.

[importantsubject]

"I write to read and I read to love yet my heart tears my eyes away from the pages to look at you."