i hope you feel what i feel, someone to stand beside me
Maybe there's a part of me that wants you to see what I see. To still see a sky past the rain drops falling from the tree tops, to feel a dance when no music is playing. Maybe I want you to find the magic I do every day, the mushrooms in the garden winding down to a fairy hide-a-way. To taste the nightsky and not be afraid to follow the dusty roads where the lights to not glow. Maybe I want to take you to the city where hanging garden meet ashy roads and tall buildings are strung together with glass beads. Maybe I want you to see the electric colours, the faded-polaroid hues, to understand the twinkle and shine. Maybe I want these words to echo in your heart until you learn to see with your eyes shut, to dream with your eyes open.
But maybe what I want more is for you give me your own magic, to paint a world and invite me in, candles lighting the way. Maybe you'll build a home in flowering apple tree or maybe we'll sled down the iced stairways of stained-glass churches. Do you talk to the sunflowers, do you sing with the seagrass? Maybe the birds are all bejeweled, weightless anyway, and the moon and the sun hang together in the sky every hour of every day. Is the carnival always in town, the scent of sugared dough heavy in the air, lightning cracking in the distance? Maybe you spin your own lullaby and the words echo in my own heart, the hum sweetly ringing even as I sleep. Maybe I want a heart that still believes.
But maybe what I want more is for you give me your own magic, to paint a world and invite me in, candles lighting the way. Maybe you'll build a home in flowering apple tree or maybe we'll sled down the iced stairways of stained-glass churches. Do you talk to the sunflowers, do you sing with the seagrass? Maybe the birds are all bejeweled, weightless anyway, and the moon and the sun hang together in the sky every hour of every day. Is the carnival always in town, the scent of sugared dough heavy in the air, lightning cracking in the distance? Maybe you spin your own lullaby and the words echo in my own heart, the hum sweetly ringing even as I sleep. Maybe I want a heart that still believes.