They never tell though they know.
Anonymous asked: Sometimes I forget how fantastic a writer you are. Just. Wow.
I’m no writer. I’ve never claimed to be. I am simply a guy who sheds ink for those who cannot find the words within themselves. I write for them. Most everything I write is not personal to me, but can be personal to someone else. I was asked if the girl I write about is real, but if you read closely, “she” changes. Her eyes are blue, green, brown, etc. I write for that one person who reads it and knows what the words feel like. You sometimes forget that the stories I create are amazing, because I am just Me. I want it that way. Thank you.
Anonymous asked: No.
List of Loves
I love you like the morning
and how you’re the first I see.
I love you like the air
you have made me breathe.
I love you like September
and the changing of the leaves.
I love you like December
and the gifts you’ve given me.
I love you for your smile
and how it warms me.
I love you for your moods,
so much like the sea.
I love you for your touch
and how it makes me shiver.
I love you for that look
that makes me quiver.
I love you for your hair
and how it falls around.
I love you for the night
and how, in you, I drowned.
But I hate you for the lies
that you kept telling me,
and especially for this list
of loves, I no longer believe.
"I can’t imagine life without you," I heard her say.
"You won’t have to, because you’ll be living it," I replied as I walked away.
"Remember, you still have The Smiths."
Anonymous asked: Is this girl you write about real?
Every piece I write is real in some way. Though not like you think. I may see something or get an idea in my head and I write. I’m glad you feel the need to ask if “she” is real though. That makes me believe that my stories or thoughts have something more than just syllables behind them. Thinking about it, “she” is real, but not how most believe what is real. “She” is real to me, more real than anything I’ve ever felt. Thank you, dearest anon. I shall try to continue to write things that make you wonder and feel.
Coffee With Serenity
She has green eyes
and likes her coffee with milk.
She doesn’t take it with sugar
and scolds me when I forget.
I don’t mind it though,
and truthfully, neither does she.
She just enjoys bantering me
and reminding me who’s in charge.
She has special cups that depict
the mood she’s in.
She has three total;
I Love You, I Love Us, & Serenity.
My favorite is when
she uses Serenity,
because though I’ve never told her,
she is my serene.
When she takes a sip of coffee,
I can see how much she enjoys it,
and it’s like she’s taking
a bit of serenity into herself.
Throughout the day,
I anticipate the night,
but even more, I anticipate
coffee with her in the morning.
Eyeliner, Sighs, and Life
I love how she takes her time getting dressed as it seems that time is of little consequence. I like that. She simply says that she “gets ready,” but it is so much more. She is so much more.
I speed through preparing myself so I can wait downstairs. I get impatient waiting for her, but not because we are going to miss an appointment. I grow impatient because the anticipation at the sight of her walking down those stairs grows too great.
You wouldn’t understand unless you saw her dress. You wouldn’t see how she holds her compact in her hand or how she brushes her cheeks with blush. That look of satisfaction she has when her eyeliner is absolutely perfect in her eyes is nothing short of divine. It’s a marvel to see her coming together for a night out, but to sit downstairs and drum the armchair with my fingertips and wonder when she will come down is a fun little game I like to play.
It’s always when I can no longer wait that I hear her footsteps and that I spring to my feet. Seeing her walk down and look at me devouring her with my eyes, noticing every detail of the portrait that she created is what makes all of the waiting worth it. Seeing her in my field of vision as my hand reaches for her is what I live for.
But my favorite thing of all is that it’s my arm she will be holding and when the night is through, I will undo all of what she had done. I must destroy what she put together in order to give her what she longs for. For my efforts, I get to hear her sing and sigh in the lost measure of the night. She will be the death of me as she is already my life.
chasing-down-sin asked: Your blog popped up on my dash and after reading some of your poetry, I immediately saw that your style was similar to mine. I've only recognized that in one or two other persons, I like your whole blog. :D <3
I, kind sir, am honored. I thank the gods, new and old, that you stumbled upon me and in turn, I am able to read your words.