• allbymyself 40w

    This is time
    the way we remember
    before she floated
    away from our soul
    the slow gentle
    creak of a clock
    in the distance
    as the howl of
    a wolf is heard
    near the grass
    where dreams lay
    a memory trapped
    in a silver shadow
    under the starshine
    straining to clamber
    out of the quicksand.

    This is where
    my thoughts slow
    down and my reality
    becomes a blur, a
    story that I can read
    only under candlelight
    because the sun
    is far too bright
    your hands are quicksilver
    as they trace tears
    upon the lining
    of my weary face
    your voice the truth
    your words the lie
    as we crawl to
    the end of the race.

    - Avitaj

    @dopamine @thegreymetaphor @raika_

    For whatever reasons, I have not had much motivation to write recently, but I will most likely resume posting daily, or at the least, every alternate day.

    Picture credit- Vadim Sadovski

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    Memory comes when memory's old
    I am never the first to know
    Following the stream up North
    Where do people like us float

    Morning, keep the streets empty for me

    - Keep The Streets Empty For Me, Ray Fever