SilverLining-studios

In the Night I see her, an angel of stone and feather casting a pale illumination over my grave, upon her cheek tears linger a vulnerable stain, how I wish I could kiss them away and taste their poetry calligraphing a wish, just one absent-minded wish to be loved, over her impenetrable nude she wears a weave of spiderwebs, I see the nightmares that hide in their gossamer folds, beckoning the Dark's many collectibles into her shade, but her soul is wet with secrets, her eyes are hollowed out by deja vus, her lips bleed from being too tightly sewn shut, but oh how I want to love her quietly-silent and spectral -how my groin aches

It seems that everyone grows up to be beautiful. But what are we now, then? Are we just shards of glass hanging in the wind, waiting for the light to shine through? Or are we really waiting at all? What if we're just sitting here, trying to remember what it was that we were brought here to do. As though we had a reason for being here, this very moment. Yes, even you who sits here alongside me wasting time dilly-dallying and singing tunes that have no end. What if the reason we're here right now cannot be put into words, but can only be felt? Like the warm breath of air that escapes the clutches of the sun as it furrows the tired grass

The last dream you ever have Is supposed to be the best, Because that's where you stay. Your spirit never emerged From this dream, Only your body did. As soon as your vessel Lost its remaining life, The dream became real. The dream became you. Whether in it was a field, Or an ocean, Or perhaps even home, It will be where you dreamed. A moment of joy, Because sorrow Can never enter into this. You're still home, as you were. Maybe you'll visit me in my dreams, And though I awaken every morning, I'll know that it wasn't just a dream For you.