Peace is when I am cuddled up in a snug wool blanket with a hot coffee in hand without worry in mind, so I can dream about red sunsets and the scent of warm, sun kissed bodies.
So grand yet so small, so important yet so irrelevant, so beautiful yet so shallow, must thee live in illusion or does real life leave too much of a confusion?
Would you want to breathe if you were to ask for oxygen? Would you want to drink if you were to beg for a glass of water? would you want to eat if you were to pray for a plate of food? Well, I wouldn’t.
Blissful comfort of pain and sorrow ravishes my rationality and drinks up my hope, for even thee whom I romanticize so deeply leaves me in a pool of intrusive thoughts telling me no matter what I say or do even the mirror despises you.
How is it possible that with one stare I’m in flames and no fire extinguisher shall help me? and so here I stand a tree burning from inside out of love from you.
I can truly see myself in that light, the green iris of my eye like a jungle, full of life. And when snow covers the green, and my skin looses its color I crave that wilderness in my eye.
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