bee

stream of consciousness casually masquerading as poetry with the best of intentions...

[bee-g-blog1]

[bee-g-blog1]

Love isn't felt with the heart,

or in the butterflies in my stomach.

Love can't be touched with fingertips,

or transferred through our lips.

Love needs more grandeur, more ancient, more pure.

Love lives in the deepest corners of a soul;

in the parts that still remember being scattered across the universe

where the brilliance of the stars can be basked in without burning.

For how else could I survive the baptism of light that is you?

[bee-g-blog1]

I'd write the story of us

If I thought I could do it justice.

How to explain the trancendency

of just getting fish and chips?

Or the complete contentment

of watching Doctor Who

with my head on your lap?

[bee-g-blog1]

[bee-g-blog1]

I'm halfway gone, sleepless I'm battle worn.

You're all I want, so bring me the dawn.

I need the sun to break...

James Bay, 'I need the sun to break'

[t-a-r-0-t]

Hey, stop scrolling.

Everyone who is reading this: I’m so glad you’re alive. I’m so proud of you. You are loved. I’m here. Don’t give up, we’re almost there.

Pass it on.

[bee-g-blog1]

you keep much of your splendour hidden from the world.

for every cheeky grin, there's a galaxy spinning being your eyes.

behind the (only slightly) greying beard, there's kind words, and whispered dreams.

with your sun-drenched arms come a lifetime of love for your mother and fierce friendship for the lucky ones.

cradled unseen in your strong hands is the kind of loyalty that belongs in a novel

& beside you for every step, is a girl in awe that you let her see the invisible.

[bee-g-blog1]

Enter the ringmaster

And the tallest tightrope is mere inches above the ground,

The fiercest lion no more than a tame kitten,

I can dance with fire, nimble and quick, avoiding it's touch,

Watch me juggle entire houses, cities, continents, without looking,

The impossible becomes child's play,

And the world big top vibrant;

Enter the ringmaster

[bee-g-blog1]

[bee-g-blog1]

Sometimes when you're just talking,

Or you're playing on your phone,

Or sitting in the office deep in thought,

When you message me about nonsense,

Or pull a silly face,

Or are just getting dressed or fixing your hair,

I get this extraordinary, overwhelming rush of all encompassing love for you,

& my chest feels like it could explode with the maybes & somedays & right nows & I-should-be-so-lucky's & pride & gratitude & the world stops turning, stars align, everything goes still, & you could hear a pin drop...

& I try so hard to memorise that feeling,

to keep it there somewhere inside my ribcage

because I'm sure that's how people live to be over 100.

& I've completely forgotten what you said before the whole universe did a somersault.

Say that again...?

[bee-g-blog1]

how lucky I am

that win or lose,

fly or fall,

I know what it is to love.

this world changing,

star chasing,

soul raising,

spine tingling

feather light fingertips of lightning and caught breath

supernova kind of love.

[thelovejournals]

…Two souls are sometimes created together and in love before they’re born.

F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Beautiful and Damned (via thelovejournals)

[bee-g-blog1]

[bee-g-blog1]

If I am the ocean, you are the sun

and as you approach, I shine with the borrowed light until the brilliance and wonder mirrored chases away the inky blackness in anticipation of daily absorbing the myriad colours that you pull effortlessly from the sky; just enough to hold on to until you rise back into view, and bring the day with you.

and every time that I ponder, what with your splendour, how I can possibly measure up, while being pulled along an unchanging axis, no radiance but that generously bestowed by you, I am faced with the beautiful reality that, day and night like clockwork, you come back, and blanket me with the best of you in a wide embrace, bringing the slowness of a world in transformation.

every dawn,

every dusk,

you come back.

[bee-g-blog1]

[bee-g-blog1]

[bee-g-blog1]