Will You Reach For My Heart When My Mind Screams With Fear? Will You Reach For My Heart When My Eyes

Will you reach for my heart when my mind screams with fear? Will you reach for my heart when my eyes are bloodshot with tears? Will you reach for my heart when all the unsettling thoughts are spilling out of me? Will you reach for my heart when my exhaustion is spitting rage and frustration your way? Will you reach for my heart when you don't understand anything of what I'm trying to explain? Will you reach for my heart when my demons drag me in a dance? Will you reach for my heart when it's just a pile of sharp, shattered shards? Will you reach for my heart when I'm roaming on the edge of a knife again and again? Will you reach for my heart time and time again?

Is your love brave enough?

Emily Yvonne, Will You Reach For My Heart?

watching someone you loved turning into a stranger is a different kind of pain

My existence cannot seem to cope with the aggravating fact that it's humanly impossible to live out all the aesthetics which are part of my soul, [lest if even a pinch of only one of them is missing I am incomplete] at once while also being aesthetically pleasing and coherent, as well as satisfied with the current aesthetic expression at all times.

And so here I sleep

in the whirlwinds of the day.

Far away.

My mind wonders though the forests, over the mountains and there where the ocean gently hits the cliffs;

where you hold my hand unashamed, longing gravely for my presence, speaking bravely of what terrifies.

My blood pouring out in tears of sorrow, over hyacinths and there where the safe land's severed into rifts.

Deep away

in my imagination

to which I am a prey.

Emily Yvonne, Away

The old German tale says:

In the very beginning of all times, Snow longed for a colour to be whole. In its adoration of all the flowers' coulours, it aspired one of them would share their own colour with the Snow. However, the flowers too proud, finding the Snow cold and harsh, did not like it to be the same colour as themself. After all the failed search, the disappointed Snow was at last seen by a little humble flower. Her hope and sympathy gifted the Snow its significant white colour and in return the Snow swore a place and no harm of its sharp crystals to the kind maiden. Ever since, the Snow and the Snowdrop in their grace, together bring a new beginning.

❄️ pictures are my own, please, don't use without credit

guess who finished reading a book after year and a half... bid farewell till after another year add or brb in a week, you know, depends