I awoke with my head submerged in water,
ears blocked, the world locked out of my perception.
There’s a knock on a window somewhere but I can’t tell which one
this muffled echo is coming from – a pathetic attempt at a sound.
I’ve lost touch with my senses, like they’re running out of battery,
confused with each other, I can feel sounds but not hear them.
Music holds more memories than we remember
A melody is nostalgia and a photo album of sounds
I remember my life through the lyrics that touched me and
The songs connected to people
And days and nights
And moments
Some sounds touch the heart
And remind me of feelings I can feel I once felt
But don’t remember
Remember:
Your thoughts aren’t real,
They stir your mind into a swirl
A tornado
With power to turn dreams to ruins
If only you let them
But you have the power to stand as strong
As a deep rooted tree
Withstanding rains
And winds
And storms
That cloak the world in a fog
Transforming it into something
Unrecognisable.
My tongue will twist around words
Unable to be spoken,
My voice box choked
By your ineffable beauty.
Your glorious grace,
Not perfect for all
But perfect for me.
Sometimes I think
My thoughts
Are also thinking.
Like thoughts inside thoughts.
An ambivert is someone who is neither an introvert nor an extrovert, but somewhere in between. Instead of having a battery that is recharged solely by either social interaction or alone time, it can really depend on the person and the situation. For me, I have more like a double ended battery. I think that’s the best way to describe it.
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What if
All that was,
Is,
And will be
Is constant?
What if it has all
Already happened
And is happening
Continuously,
Right now,
But each of us is only capable
Of consciously knowing
One spot at a time.
I feel as if I am standing in the eye of a storm
With the eurhythmics of the swirling wind
Shouting in my ears a melody that could only be
Comparable to the sound of ghosts
Howling through my chimneys.
I would try to forget your touch But could never bring myself To burn the memories I knew I would one day learn to treasure. I am a scrapbook Of everyone’s touches Everyone’s words; compliments Or confidence crushers I am a mix tape Of the songs I sing in the shower And the ones that…
Read MoreNice is another one of those words, similar to ‘weird‘, that is used so often that it has lost its meaning. There are different words that would be far better fitting to individual situations that we should be using instead of nice. However, I don’t believe that kind is one of those words, as not every nice person is kind, and not every kind person is nice.
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Lauren Kathleen 