(no subject)
Dear Dream,
I can feel it the way you feel it now. Let me tell you this, it has never been so beautiful. Sometimes there is silence, but silence can be so relaxing. I feel so full it feels so empty. Does that make sense? I wonder if the glowing seeps through my skin. I think maybe words are not enough. There isn't a word imaginable that comes from my throat and does justice to the way I am feeling.
People are often referred to as books. "I can read her like a book" or "My life is an open book." I see you as more of an essay, one that grows, evolves , and gets better with every sentence.
We'll have to wake sometime...
Do you want to wake?
I don't
When we hold hands, it's like driving with your eyes closed, so unimaginable, yet I think about it all the time. wouldn't you like to run off deep into the crevices? or maybe into the middle of it all?
And I don't mean run and hide, I mean run because we can.
The world looks so different through those lenses. I have a feeling I should stop my hand from writing but maybe it's time we turn dreams and reality into the same thing.
I know religion and school crowd your thoughts. How would you feel if we could become religion or simply pick knowledge from the trees around us? Are you running around in there? Are you questioning too? Or am I the one drunk off "love" not concerned about turning back?
We'll have to wake sometime...
Do you want to wake?
What would happen if we didn't?
Your eyes have taken over my soul and I have come to re-name them bliss. Everything is glossy, yellow, warm, and real. Even though reality doesn't exist, when I'm with you it all MATTERS. You can almost scrape the purpose from our faces.
~Vous me rendez heureux~
-BoBBy
I can feel it the way you feel it now. Let me tell you this, it has never been so beautiful. Sometimes there is silence, but silence can be so relaxing. I feel so full it feels so empty. Does that make sense? I wonder if the glowing seeps through my skin. I think maybe words are not enough. There isn't a word imaginable that comes from my throat and does justice to the way I am feeling.
People are often referred to as books. "I can read her like a book" or "My life is an open book." I see you as more of an essay, one that grows, evolves , and gets better with every sentence.
We'll have to wake sometime...
Do you want to wake?
I don't
When we hold hands, it's like driving with your eyes closed, so unimaginable, yet I think about it all the time. wouldn't you like to run off deep into the crevices? or maybe into the middle of it all?
And I don't mean run and hide, I mean run because we can.
The world looks so different through those lenses. I have a feeling I should stop my hand from writing but maybe it's time we turn dreams and reality into the same thing.
I know religion and school crowd your thoughts. How would you feel if we could become religion or simply pick knowledge from the trees around us? Are you running around in there? Are you questioning too? Or am I the one drunk off "love" not concerned about turning back?
We'll have to wake sometime...
Do you want to wake?
What would happen if we didn't?
Your eyes have taken over my soul and I have come to re-name them bliss. Everything is glossy, yellow, warm, and real. Even though reality doesn't exist, when I'm with you it all MATTERS. You can almost scrape the purpose from our faces.
~Vous me rendez heureux~
-BoBBy