I write based on heart. I love based on thought. I think based on truth.
Amidst the clouds, Or, ensuring that my imagination flows with the waves of the oceans, I come quickly to realize that
By Mihaela Vasileva6 years ago in Poets
I lost a friend by the name of William, Whose heart I wish I’d kept. But slowly, Through the passage of time And through the works of fate
I remember once, It had been said. Too close for comfort, not easy to forget. Mind you, we should all avoid to stare. Stop, halt.
It’s supposed to fit. I know it. It’s a stretch most days. The fabric is often not enough The string too short The stitches too loose
She reasons With great astuteness Or rather With great focus What the world Manifests itself to be on the daily.
Let us play, let us play. Let us melt the blue away. I seek to find a better day. I seek to know what to say. Be it and that as it may,
We wait, we wait We patiently wait. Oh Lord, Oh Lord, What if we’re late? No, no it cannot be so. My feet, my feet tell me to go.
Here. I don’t why I always start like that. It’s the greater number in the equation. The present. You take that And divide it by the future.
Here’s the song and play it loud, I don’t care if you sing it, Just scream and shout: “Here it is!” You know, Here,
Concerning the trees, to which I speak On a night such as this I told them a story of a time when their Branches extended all the way to my soul.
You’re hungry. In the middle of the night, in the morning, in the afternoon, or whenever you feel like it: You Want
Body, You should know that I move you. Like a conductor to his orchestra Like an engine to its wheel Like a writer to his pen,
