Poetry.

[dearyoungreactr]

I know that HE exists.
Somewhere-In Silence.
He has hid His rare life
From our gross eyes.

'Tis a instant's play.
'Tis a fond Ambush.
Just to make bliss.
Earn her own surprise.

But- Should the play-
Prove piercing earnest
Should the glee- glaze
In Death's -stiff- stare

Would not the fun
Look too expensive
Would not the jest
Have crawled too far.

-Emily Dickinson

I miss you.

I wish you knew who you were.

Then you would realize what is happening.