Sometimes The Only Positive Thing You Can Say About Whats Going On Is That Time Is Still Going, At More

sometimes the only positive thing you can say about what’s going on is that time is still going, at more or less the same pace it ever was. everything changes eventually, and your situation won’t stay the same

i ignore you for months

barely sparing you a glance,

rarely acknowledging your presence.

you've been by my side for years

saying nothing

as i break parts of you,

replacing them soon enough.

And when i fall asleep on your side,

you silently let me.

allowing my fingers

to dance down your neck

playing out melodies;

tunes sung on my command.

and when i scratch at your surface

out of sheer boredom

there is not a single word of protest.

the callouses on my skin

are a small price to pay when

i leave you for months

fascinated by someone new.

you watch soundlessly

as i hold someone else in my arms;

a new temptation this week.

but you know I'll come back

and i know

that when i do,

you'll welcome me with open arms.

This is about my guitar lol

Curious Fear

i'm dreading it

i can't wait

i want time to slow down

i want it to hurry up

Future holds me in her hand

the strands of my hair

entwined around her fingers

and my feet glued to her palm.

i stray to Past sometimes

longing for her knowing embrace;

the comfort of her certainty.

but my hair only reaches my waist,

and the hands of the clock move fast.

so I look through the gaps,

watching the Sun

plunge below the horizon,

hiding its colours except

a pitying pink trail in the sky.

the following darkness is unbearable

until the Moon proudly shows off

it's blemishes in monochrome.

yet if their beauty were measured,

the scales would be left balanced.

i crave more,

hoping a new sight will find me through the spaces.

i look on with curious fear,

not knowing what shades of the sun

will paint the clouds tomorrow,

and which leaves will bathe in silver moonlight.

or if any of it will happen at all.

curling my body

into the ridges of her palm,

my lashes entangle to welcome sleep.

it comes with dreams of warm orange,

cold grey and midnight skies.

you don’t know how much you meant to me.

how the words that left your lips

pierced my heart,

lurking in my head for hours.

how the sweet texts you sent

are locked up in my gallery

after all these months.

i look at them sometimes,

the screenshots taking me back

to a time that may have existed,

to a version of us

that looks perfect

in the haze of nostalgia.

is that a smile or a grimace?

a bittersweet taste on my tongue.

you don’t know how much you meant to me.

that drunken voice note still haunts me.

“i love you”s whispered in the dead of the night.

hours before dawn broke;

days before your heart did too.

i'm not sorry though.

i was sick of us,

sick of running in circles,

of the loop we were stuck in,

of our never-ending endings,

one step forward, two steps back.

you were a habit I couldn’t break,

but it was time to stop.

like a wilted flower clinging to a branch,

it was time to let go.

old habits die hard,

but as the nostalgia fades,

reality slams into me in waves.

and I’m glad I never told you

just how much you meant to me.

I love this 😳

Stability is a product of society.

So are careers. And growth.

Nature never designed life to be stable.

Flowers bloom and wither every day.

Wasps fly and fall every day.

Lions don’t want larger caves after a hunt.

Trees remain in one place all their lives.

Every living thing, except humans, is just being.

It is only us who are aspiring, planning, visualising, amending, and redoing what life is supposed to be.

“I’m lost. And it’s my own fault. It’s about time I figured out that I can’t ask people to keep me found.”

— Anne Sexton, A Self-Portrait In Letters