At the elegiac words of your ode, even ache could be somewhat flawless. Your je ne sais quoi turns twinge into pleasure in disguise, like fading colours of daybreak in the border of the city and the sky. As fine as white and washed-out ivory, but less romantic than the contrast of urban lights and evening horizon. You define pain as if it is just a peach rosebud. A patisserie that is closed every Saturday. A loverboy two thousand miles away promising to be back home.They would eventually grow some happiness just yet, you believe.
Tag: petrichor
Pigeons & Planes
You consist of grains of multihued lights, juxtaposing the dim around the lives surrounding you. You breathe and prudently subsist, to secure and soothe me with your ephemeral presence. You be the bittersweet cherry essence in my daily homeopathic syrup, concealing the resentment of my own disguised fear of mortality. You ensure me felicity through the deception of longing and fortitude, as I seek for more and more perpetual encounters. You and I, we might be the edges of a line shaping ampersand, crawling slowly at secret hopes of meeting one another, while constantly creeping until we end up standing at different thresholds, wishing if only we were meant to be an infinitude.
You.