The Diary of a Late Bloomer (26)

Because in my eyes, you are mine

She made pause a played movie in the head. There, he was sitting in front of her, looked at her dearly. Consoling the grieving and mourning of lost moments came haunting hither and thither in every spare time remambrance. She felt her heart abound by the sudden popping up No matter where you go, I won’t be very far, ‘‘Cause in my head I’ll be right there where you are,” It was to make her longing no lesser, if anything, greater. Had she could beg for different, to have him by her side, . There the figure whispered her melodies to be blown by the passing wind. “‘Cause love has no distance baby, Love has no distance baby. No, not when it comes to you and me.” She held dearly in frame of mind the last bumping into him. It was to be cherished forever, to be kept sacred. Because distance is of little issue, insofar as she had the soul stayed put, she felt the lost time invested.

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Tripping

(https://operationvanit.files.wordpress.com/2015/08/costa-life-drawing-5th-aug-2015-1.jpg?w=735&h=1024)

What day is it? And in what month?

This clock never seemed so alive”

—-

He looked at her dearly

It was in the way she moved

In the way she stared 

In the way she smiled

In the way she talked

He couldn’t seem to take his eyes off

It was the pretty person world she was 

It was her disposition

In the way she viewed the world from rose-colored glasses

In the way she distant herself to seek solace

In the way she felt secure but at the same time a mess

It was the beautiful mess he would love to fix

Amidst myriad of throwing gazes

He saw her

And so did she

That someday, somewhere

Everything she does is beautiful

Everything she does is right


Sub Rosa

It’s taken me a while to tell you 

Exactly how I feel inside 

The words, they seem so simple right now

She enjoyed it walking uncertainty; even when it left her nothing

Of the thought moved pass her with the same question in sircular loop

It chased her running out of breath yet ceased not 

Will it be different or end up the same?” 

She wondered and kept steady her belief

Even when time can’t guarantee either juxtaposed end

It is to be unfolded in time sub rosa

—-

And is this what you call love, love, love?