ShopDreamUp AI ArtDreamUp
Deviation Actions
Literature Text
she makes me melt. but i'm scared that my walls don't whisper like they used to, i see through the floors we are pushed under. each depth i re-visit has her scent, the lasting growth of spring in winter, maybe she misses herself. birds hum broken chords like misshapen pianos and the ice statue i was once, no longer tact. but a pit of similes sleeping amongst words i couldn't give her, we are the lonely.
as each being began to spin a web of their own, foxes tackled the grass and we screamed at the sky, gave it goosebumps. finally we are no-one, but then again i'd rather see how it felt to be a part of her. we could be in paris, if she wanted – oh how things never last. are we waiting for things that won't come, or waiting for nothing at all?
as each being began to spin a web of their own, foxes tackled the grass and we screamed at the sky, gave it goosebumps. finally we are no-one, but then again i'd rather see how it felt to be a part of her. we could be in paris, if she wanted – oh how things never last. are we waiting for things that won't come, or waiting for nothing at all?
Suggested Collections
Featured in Groups
little thoughts nagging at my head.
© 2012 - 2024 fragile-anchors
Comments7
Join the community to add your comment. Already a deviant? Log In
Lovely :3