sunnyspen

[sunnyspen]

Poetry of the rising sun

My love is like a painting

All in different strokes

Made so naturally

That some are gentle some are rough

It's imperfect in its spontaneity

But that's how u know it is sincere

But your love is the gaze

It's the fee, the price you pay

To look at my painting

To stare in away

But will you ever love the painter

Like u love the paint he made

[sunnyspen]

A story of pearls and waves

Trigger warning: Mention of almost death and drowning

The ocean calms the most restless soul

As the water swallows you whole, you cannot contain the emerging hope, the hope that your father would come and save you from the darkness of his neglect. He would become more than Gotham's hero; he would be your savior as well. So you waited and waited, until you started to lose conscience. He wasn't going to save you; no one would. In this newfound realisation, you surrender yourself to the darkness, letting the water embrace you, consume you. However, you weren't afraid, no. The water gave you a feeling you had almost forgotten; you felt at home, at peace. So you embraced your destiny. If you knew death was going to be this peaceful, you would have died years ago. You could almost feel the gentle arms of your mother reaching out to you from beyond, but they didn't pull you in, no. You slowly open your eyes to the realization that you were breathing. You were still alive.

You beat your feet and hands uncordenatledy, trying to reach the shore, and although it took a long time and effort, you managed to do it. Your toes curl in the sand, and you can finally breathe normally again. You didn't understand what just happened; you were able to breathe underwater. But the confusion doesn't get the time to settle in your heart, for it was already overflowing with another feeling, a new, unknown feeling. For the first time, you felt alive.