Here I go again, writing suckish poetry. Oh well. :P
I asked you why.
Why did you stay?
Why didn't you stop?
Why did you protect me?
Why didn't you leave?
The author hereby states that all perceived similarities between characters and people living or dead are either purely coincidental or a skewered nerve in your guilty conscience.
--Ilustrado, Miguel Syjuco
Friday, January 18, 2013
Start Writing
You get your desk ready. Notebook? Check. Pen? Check. Thesaurus? Check. Comfortable chair? Check.
Whether you're in the mood or not, you use all your willpower to sit down and you feel like a heavy weight has been mounted on your shoulders. You slouch a bit then open the notebook to a blank page and just stare at it for a few seconds. The lines seem to be intimidating you, reading you from the very depths of your soul and taunting you, bullying you for your inability to write. You just stare back at the page, courage slowly vanishing.
Now what?
Whether you're in the mood or not, you use all your willpower to sit down and you feel like a heavy weight has been mounted on your shoulders. You slouch a bit then open the notebook to a blank page and just stare at it for a few seconds. The lines seem to be intimidating you, reading you from the very depths of your soul and taunting you, bullying you for your inability to write. You just stare back at the page, courage slowly vanishing.
Now what?
River-Merchant: A Letter
A reply letter to River-Merchant's Wife: A Letter.
The river's flowing slowly like it did in the past
When we could still be happy and glad
When we could still play and laugh
When we could still brighten up each other's face with just a smile.
But now, my dear, the bright days are gone,
The sun has stopped shining and the dark clouds have come.
I look above and see nothing but black,
Not being able to find a single ray of sunshine.
Still, I wait for you and the birds sing nothing but the blues.
And it does nothing but sadden me,
But I know that it will sadden you even more.
Leaves turn orange, some brown.
There is not one day I do not think of you.
Spring passes by as quickly as summer,
Winter lingering just a bit longer.
And still I think of you.
Would you be waiting for my return,
Lilies in hand and a smile on your face?
Or would you be picking yellow tulips with a substitude,
Bringing with you all your subtlety and grace?
The wind smells like you, and so do the trees.
The night noises sound like your footsteps.
Everywhere I turn, I see your peaceful face.
I wonder, would you still look the same?
When I left, I left something other than my love.
Even the flowers would shake their heads.
The migrating birds seem to mock me as they pass.
For I can never go back.
--
Trivia: Lilies mean 'New beginning.' Yellow tulips mean 'One-sided love.' How I love the language of flowers.♥
Status: Just finished reading Before I fall by Lauren Oliver. Have to buy more books.
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