pensive

I am a feather swimming through the air and going where the currents of wind are taking me. This feeling of euphoria that succumbs me in the still of the night. You and I are but a dream turning into bones turning into dust. I lay under my covers listening to the sound of silence and think of you, and me, and we. I’ll write to you, this golden string of words that keep you awake in the evening. I’ll tell you about how the atmosphere leaves me feeling like a ghost.

I’ve decided to stop being sad. I’m going to try to be happy and help people and be a good person and love the flowers and the trees and read more and pray more and work out and go outside and do happy things.

The more I look at my legs,

the more bruises I see.

Green purple green purple

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Dreams are like feathers

Weak, fragile

But with enough,

You have wings.

It was one of those walks again. We walked in silence, as if we both were were content without saying words. Like we just knew. I’ve always liked those kinds of walks. 

“But that was the problem with having the answers. It was only after you gave them that you realize they sometimes weren’t what people wanted to hear.”

pen·sive
adjective

1. dreamily or wistfully thoughtful

2.  expressing or revealing thoughtfulness, usually marked by some sadness

I know the many secrets
Of the air and the wind,
And of silent sadness, 
And of peaceful dreams.

I have seen the wings of butterflies
Talk of eternity 
And the sun sighing
On morning’s first kiss.

I know a tale never loses in the telling,
Not every cloud brings a storm
And tomorrow will be like today,
Only more so.

Never again will the bird’s song
Be the same.

People always tell me that I look sad and tired and ask what’s wrong all the time. I know I look sad and tired. I am sad and tired.