Walls of Blue
1/1
I’m sinking in this ocean. Falling slowly but surely as a feather, sinking deeper and deeper. The brighter you shine the wider the arms of the shadows become. Quite unsurely I stand in place, hesitant to take a step forward, but silently terrified to let the dark engulf me. I’ve been there before and there’s a permanent hypocritical smile on my conscience. On my mind, you drag me down to your level, but I don’t know if I have to crouch to reach it, as you are an angel in the sky, coming from the heavens I don’t believe in, though I surely believe in you.
With the words you say and refuse to repeat, there’s an echoing question in the back of my mind that I can’t seem to answer. These endless nights, falling asleep with the thought of you in my arms, only to wake up and realise you were never there at all, are my sure reminders that there is something subjective there. If my walls were blue, I’d be in the ocean. They are yet to be painted.
There’s no light pouring through the window when I open my eyes. There’s only darkness with a quiet promise of your blue eyes and shaking laughter. I’m always fumbling in the dark for your hand, but your arms are crossed. You’re pacing the floor and you refuse to tell me something that I’m unable to deem as truth.
The sunlight you seemed to have absorbed from me. With doubt, the second December is upon us. I don’t quite know what I’m trying to find, but I know there will be the confirmation and possible satisfaction that follows the words I yearn to hear.
The blue turns grey as clouds fall to pieces and cover this town in layers of white. There’s the dark black abyss in the middle, which I seem to get lost in. I notice you stutter. Red-faced with a bright smile on your face, you look at me and I’m looking for the words that just say yes but they don’t appear or I can’t find them.
There’s an ocean in your eyes. I've hit rock bottom.
With the words you say and refuse to repeat, there’s an echoing question in the back of my mind that I can’t seem to answer. These endless nights, falling asleep with the thought of you in my arms, only to wake up and realise you were never there at all, are my sure reminders that there is something subjective there. If my walls were blue, I’d be in the ocean. They are yet to be painted.
There’s no light pouring through the window when I open my eyes. There’s only darkness with a quiet promise of your blue eyes and shaking laughter. I’m always fumbling in the dark for your hand, but your arms are crossed. You’re pacing the floor and you refuse to tell me something that I’m unable to deem as truth.
The sunlight you seemed to have absorbed from me. With doubt, the second December is upon us. I don’t quite know what I’m trying to find, but I know there will be the confirmation and possible satisfaction that follows the words I yearn to hear.
The blue turns grey as clouds fall to pieces and cover this town in layers of white. There’s the dark black abyss in the middle, which I seem to get lost in. I notice you stutter. Red-faced with a bright smile on your face, you look at me and I’m looking for the words that just say yes but they don’t appear or I can’t find them.
There’s an ocean in your eyes. I've hit rock bottom.