#endless writing

[honeylookatthestars]

"Do you remember way back when everything was different and we were this weird thing that neither of us could comprehend? At least that's how it was for a while. Do you ever just sit and think about it a while? I know I do, way more than I'd ever want to admit to anyone. It's a bittersweet feeling, thinking about it. Remember how lovely those moments were, how it felt like real true happiness. Riding that wave of euphoric feelings through the memories until you reach the end. And the end is just as dramatic as the ride upwards. It's like running, faster and faster until you run out of ground without realizing it. That feeling of flailing your legs faster, faster and harder than you would have ever thought possible, just to come up with absolutely nothing really. Nothing. Just air. That emptiness, the one that fills you up, although you never really thought you could actually be filled with emptiness, until now. Everytime you ride that fucking rollar coaster, you can't just hop off it. You are seated please keep your hands, feet, and everything else in the car at all times, and before that sentence is even over with your just zooming down it. Whiplash and trauma, consuming you. And once the ride comes to a halt, your just there. Numb. Seemingly unfeeling. Lifeless."

-A.S

[honeylookatthestars]

I’d say that you resemble the stars but it seems to be too overly stated to mean anything to anyone but me. People use the universe to explain that which they cannot understand and you are the biggest mystery I’ve witnessed.

You claim such lovely things with eyes that resemble the deepest galaxies, so how could I not be enchanted with the magic of your lips. The trails of electricity you leave across my body are the constellations of hidden dreams strung together to spark imagination. You are unexplored and vast, taking up all the space I have in my heart. You and I become Us in a blaze of light and glory, altering the gravity around us.

[honeylookatthestars]

i want to write you a song. something sweet, something that can describe exactly how i feel when you let me be whatever i want. the light on your eyes doesn’t flicker when you catch the darkness in me.

i want to write a song about you. how i love you laugh and you have to know i say the meanest things just to hear it. because you like me mean and spiteful. for you it’s funny my lack of empathy and cocky honesty. i love your little gestures and your sarcasm and the way you speak to me in two different languages.

i want to play you that song as a thank you. because no one ever gives me a chance and you are the only person who makes me feel like i’m worth something. our inside jokes and the lifts home, playing cards in the back of the classroom and sharing secrets about other people. i send you pieces of poems i know you’d like and you send me links of videos you know i need to see.

next to you, i feel unstoppable. next to me, you are a god. and my song wouldn’t make sense to anyone but us.

[honeylookatthestars]

I can count the stars as they appear, one by one, in the night sky. One, two, three, four, timidly they follow each other onto the vast carpet of black velvet.

At first it is easy to count the stars. Each one shines brighter than the last, and I can lay on my roof and raise my hand to point at all the brilliant sparks.

But then there come more stars, and soon the sky is ablaze. I cannot count the stars now, although sometimes I still try. When I can no longer number the stars, I am content to look up at them.

They are tiny fingerpricks of light shattering that carefully blank sky the way a painter so lovingly brings life to their canvas. At first hesitant, before dancing their brush across the space and leaving vivid slashes of color.

The stars look so small to our eyes, but we do not see all that we think we see. To see is not to know. We know that the stars are supernovas billions of light years away, but we see a sprinkling of fairy dust above out heads. Counting is not what the stars are for.

[honeylookatthestars]

We often write words for a certain someone, never thinking they could ever apply to another.

With tears or with love we trace learnt lines and pray their strength will deepen our affection.

We think they’re special in the way they only apply to one. Our one.

But they don’t. Reading over my words, over my thoughts, I’ve realized the love I felt was so easily transferred to another.

I sigh their name when I read them, smile at the thought of their face.

I don’t think of the other one.

[honeylookatthestars]

Gray. It was the color my heart and soul was drenched in after it ended. After I made it end. Everything In the world turned to gray, it's all I felt and I could see.

It's everytime I thought about you and let the sadness consume my soul over what I had actually done.

The gray was always heavy, constantly weighing down everything i did. Like some one was slowly pushing down on me, it was never ending.

Gray is the only color I regret.

[honeylookatthestars]

Pink was the butterflies. All the wonderful butterflies that fumbled around my I sides looking for a way out, searching for you. It was every blush for every, "you're beautiful" and every time I looked over to Catch you looking at me.

It's the way every single "I love you" feels, it absorbs through my skin into my heart and then to fuel the butterflies. It melts the hurt off of my soul and even polishes it some.

Pink doesn't always last, but I'm going to hold onto it for as long as possible.

[honeylookatthestars]

You are everything I thought I'd never have.