LinaLestrangeArt

would it be terribly insensitive for me to say “good morning” in a cemetery? the sun lifts up slowly, and the dead sleep in late, as usual.

Love is a mysterious thing; an undefinable, unquantifiable enigma, that could parade in plain sight and yet remain as elusive and unfathomable as the deepest of life’s unanswerable questions. Or at least, that’s how it felt to her. It seemed like all around her people were pairing off. Strangers reached out a hand and clasped one another, a connection made. Acquaintances altered their course, diverting so as to intercept and intermingle. The hugs of friends softened and slowed, feelings intensifying, intertwining limbs lingering tenderly… Yet she remained an island. She didn’t know what was wrong with her, if there

My heart is at home in breezy points, for it knows not warmth to be comfortably smothered. but my soul feels most safe when hidden away, for it fears the commitment of being committed. and  what  of  me? I feel most safe inside phantoms of darkness, where one cannnot know my craving… for I crave the destructing presence of company… always aching, itching,         burning.

Is this the end Or just a new beginning? Is this death Or just a new life? Is this me Or a shadow of myself?

tonight I'm gonna pull down the sky, throw it into my bed, and strip it naked. but I'll make it slow and quiet. I'll add just enough warm touch to make it seem sincere, breathe in just enough life to make it feel secure. I'll whisper that I love it and hold it tight, tight, tight before I turn away from it, let it memorize my back as I fall into dreamless sleep.

The moon has craters too, and look how bright it shines, even in the darkest of times.

now I'm thinking that the moon's smarter than me: she's in love with the earth but keeps her distance, keeps moving, keeps living. I lose my orbit when you're not around, and I find myself without gravity, waiting for you all night when I know you'd rather be somewhere else.