To try and catch,
These falling thoughts,
I want to sit amongst your words,
And hide away from the world,
For a year or two.
The way he spins thoughts into words,
Which he weaves into stories,
That you can wrap yourself in.
Pull them a little closer,
And savour the way they touch you.
Don’t tell me there’s no magic in the world.
There are these words I write,
And that’s ok.
To fall inside out onto a page.
Write me words,
That will slip under my skin,
And dance with my heartbeat;
I want to feel that touch again.
Write me a goodnight poem,
So I can slip it under my pillow,
And dream your words,
As I sleep.
Some people walk into your head and switch on a light. You get to see things differently and it’s addictive. The problem is, when they leave, turning the light back off, you’re plunged into darkness.
But slowly your eyes readjust and you’ll see everything is still there, because it’s the core of who you are. You just need to find your own light to see.
You are my muse.
A prism for the light,
In the words that I write.
I’ll tell you a story,
Of a girl,
Who would look deep into your eyes.
You thought she was searching for the hidden you.
She was trying to find the lost her.
I find thoughts,
And hidden in the strangest of places.