moonie1111

 She awakes to the chirping of birds and is content to simply lie there, as every morn' before, listening to the chorus of her fondest companions; after all, they're so much better than the rats or the roaches. She watches them through the window and whistles along, joining in on their harmonious melody, but the tune is harshly swallowed by a caw. The songbirds, her favorite company, scatter, replaced by a murder of crows that sweeps over the ground, gathering to form a black patch that wriggles and writhes as though the ground were beckoning her near, preparing to swallow her whole. She exits her abode, sprinting towards the crows and shooin

I'm never really good at this, The rhyming, flowing schemes, To tell you I can't stand it When you're not among my dreams. Unless it's your voice or future plans, I don't really think of much, And I'm sorry but I can't know you As someone I don't need to touch. The pictures of smiles and dancing Are all but nostalgia right now, And since you promised you'd be there, I'm making a similar vow. My fits and my sensitive streaks Are hard to bare and I realize That each "I love you" could end up As something you despise. So, love, I promise right now To try the hardest I can, So when you see me next time, It will be better than y

I could paint you a picture of a thousand saturdays I could spend doing nothing with you I could sketch out my heartbeat just to show you the way it throbs when you come in the room I could paint your sea green eyes in all their fearless grace. Their lucid and celestial glow makes my throbbing heart race. I could write a thousand songs, about your sweet velvet voice. And how its brilliance and grace gave me no other choice.