I Was A Child Of The Desert From A Very Young Age, Even Though Now I Am More Closer To The Sea. This

With a tired sigh, you tell me that life has become pointless now and that you've forgotten how it felt to be alive. You tell me you don't know where to find the next chapter of this monotonous life of yours.

I hope you find it in between your favourite book, with pages folded that remind you of how beautiful life sometimes can be.

I hope you find it the way the flowers in your homemade pots bloom late in the afternoon, spreading a faint fragrance that people will soon come to associate you with.

I hope you find it in the sweetness of the tea that you have in the mornings, just before you walk out to meet your best friend.

I hope you find it in the warmth of your blankets at night, when the moon filters in through the open window and falls on the suncatcher beside your table.

I hope you find it in the familiar tunes of your childhood songs that always adds a little bit of yellow to your eyes.

I hope you find it in the swift winds of the early winter mornings, where the steam from your cup fogs up your glasess as you sit across and smile at the little boy who claims he is Peter Pan.

I hope you find your next chapter in all the tiny nooks and corners of the world that hides the most beautiful moments that this life can come up with.

You know where to look. But you've been looking with your heart closed.

It doesn't matter if I try or not.

I'll end up in the sky a star.

But what matters is if you'll be there or not.

Beside me, glowing like the sun you are.

All that ever matters is you.

And if I wake up a star and not find you beside me,

know that I'll die over and over again.

A black hole forming at every attempt.

And until I find you I'll keep exploding.

Till I know the warmth on my face is your light.

Maybe that's how galaxies are formed.

Each one an attempt at a love story.

And thus the universe keeps on expanding.

How can it not?

When there are millions of us still searching for love.

© Moonyloonywitch

01/09/2021

And sometimes we are left with no answers but a bleeding heart that still refuses to give up on them. Still holds on with the hope that someday we'll live the dream in our heads. And so we live, like butterflies waiting to come out of their cocoons. But sometimes the cocoon gets damaged before we can fly, before we can breathe. And all that's left will be the shattered pieces of our hearts that shines like little red spots......and people in a time after us will call them galaxies.

It takes a Minute to Love someone,

But Years to forget them.

And a Lifetime, to wonder

why you fell for them in the first place.

I don't know what to do with all this love in my heart now, because it was all for your and now that you've made it clear that you don't need my affection, I find it difficult to keep these feelings in the same place for fear that they may get mixed up again and instead of letting go I'll accidentally hold onto you forever.

Reblog if your page is a safe space for anyone of any nationality and ethnicity.

Reblog if your page is a safe space for anyone in the LGBTQ+ community.

Reblog if your page is a safe space for anyone with a disability or disorder.

Reblog if your page is a safe space for anyone who has experienced or is experiencing trauma.

Reblog if your page is a safe space.

Stop running and turn around.

I am still here, standing in the dark.

With outstretched hands waiting to hold you.

Come to me and please stay this time.

We found each other after a million sad stories.

Each one more heartbreaking than the last.

So come back and I promise I'll hold you.

Sleepless nights have been my friends for a while now.

But with you by my side, the world comes alive.

My heart is stronger this time.

Let me take away your pain and mourn for your loss.

Close your eyes and walk back to me.

For so long your were lost among the starless skies.

But now even the darkness is tired of keeping us apart.

I've littered stars to guide you back home.

Follow the fading lights and by dawn you'll be safe in my arms.

It's time for our forever, my love.

Why does emptiness hurt so much,

when there is nothing for me to feel anymore.

Dragging my pale hands across the dirty walls,

I feel like giving up on everything.

I've lived on for so long,

hoping that someday everything would get better.

But that was just a lie I told myself,

because all that ever happened to me was blue.

From heartbreaks to heartbreaks,

I lived on hoping I would be free one day.

But turns out the way we live our lives,

is always predetermined before our births.

Stars and galaxies had perfectly aligned,

to make sure that luck never came my way.

All those times I felt like joys,

were simply mirages on my abandoned mind.

I wanted answers for so long,

but was afraid to come get them.

Now in the middle of the night I stand,

my heart feeling heavier than ever before.

My pale hands glides over the knocker,

and the sound of it makes the stillness scream.

Moonlight is the only comfort I have now,

as I close my eyes and take a deep breath.

The cold night air smells bittersweet,

but strangely it feels like home.

It is home.

Losing someone you love is hard enough,

but losing all of them together,

is the worst torture that a soul can suffer.

It's been years since I came home.

But I always carried it within me,

a burden that was uncalled for.

Now with the moon and the night as witnesses,

I gather every last ounce of life in me.

Calling home for the first time in years,

I am answered with a gentle breeze that caresses my cheeks.

Maybe they too missed me like I missed them.

Maybe I should've come sooner,

so that I could live a little longer.

But it doesn't matter now.

I call home after so long,

to let them know that I'll come soon.

It's just a matter of months, said the doctors.

But to me it feels like I have eternities to cross,

to finally be whole again.

Calling home for the first time in years,

I can't wait to be finally home again.

© Moonyloonywitch

12/08/2021

Like phases of the moon, I change the way I see the world. Sometimes it's too much yellow, all bright and beautiful and like the scenes from a ballroom.

And sometimes it's a tired white. With no life left in me to fight. I can feel the sighs of the earth. We share our tears, and I feel safe in her arms.

Every now and then it's green. Fresh and alive, looking like a newly bloomed daffodil. It brings back memories of past summers. A carefree world with a golden undertone.

I also see red sometimes. Like the scream of a banshee and the pain in their eyes. It reminds me of my first heartbreak. Drunk and hurting with heavy eyes, but a heavier heart.

But today all I see is grey. Like the monotonous susurration of the rain, it's killing me slowly, burying me alive. Seeping into me like I am a sponge.

This is why I hate gloomy rainy days.

It feels like I am half dead, but half alive.

I don't know where to belong.

....................................................................................................

The sky keeps pouring outside.

But all that my eyes see are worlds within each drop.

Each one looks so transparent and fragile.

And as they race each other against my window,

I silently cheer for the one that's slow.

Because I know how it feels to be last.

And because I know there's still a chance.

Who knows, maybe when the night becomes alight,

I'll stop seeing the world in blue.

Maybe when the stars come out and paint the sky,

the colours in my head will mix and blend.

And when they do so, I'll wait by the seashore.

Brush in my hand and music on my lips.

Holding my breath, in the fading sunlight.

Susurrations of my heart grows louder,

as I watch the sky being adorned in a soft pink.

© Moonyloonywitch

On that day when you stumbled away,

I thought I had a Deja Vu.

Like we've been together before.

And like we've said the same goodbyes before.

It was like looking up at the sky and suddenly seeing a star.

One that I've never seen before but felt like I always have.

You leaving me felt like it was always written.

Maybe I have been blind all this time.

The light from you smile belittled every single flaw you had.

So when suddenly you stopped smiling and turned away,

my sky became so dark that it almost felt like I could see the heavens up above.

And in there I saw our tale.

How it was told so that it could end.

Perhaps I've read this story before and cried to it too.

But strangely when it has become the story of my life,

my tears have abandoned me and I am alone.

And the emptiness in me was the way your eyes looked when they landed on me.

I thought you gave me life.

But you did not.

You just darkened the lifeless parts of me even more.

And now I lay in the sand, looking up at the blood moon.

The only red in me is the reflection of the moon in my cold eyes.

Like the millions of stars in the black sky,

now you can never find me when it's bright.

On lightless nights find the darkest portion of the sky.

There you can see me swimming in the abyss of black.

But still trying to stay awake till dawn,

till the light of the sun kills me,

like your smile once did.

I wanted us to become a lovely story.

But we were just flashbacks of a story that was never written.

We are all someone's hero if not our own.

I asked......

Would you consider yourself, a hero?

Everybody is put here for a reason. Some of us are put here for others to look at and be the example of what not to do. Some put here for them to aspire to. Be the reason another person succeeds. Someone you want to be like. Maybe a hero, maybe a mentor. It's up to us to follow, or be, whichever one we choose.

Would you read your own story?

Or maybe, a question within your story.

The story of your life.

Would you read that story? Would you read the ending? What if the story told everything? Past, present, and future. What if?

What if your story told of every adventure you’ve ever had? If the story told of your heartbreaks and loves? If that story was the truth? And told as only the truth could read? Not like you’d like to remember at times.

If the story told about the highest highs, and the lowest lows? The times that you nearly gave up, and the times you owned the world? Your world.

If the story looked ahead to things not known to you yet? The events and people that will shape your destiny? New people. New hopes, and new tears. New love. The chance to live a long life, or a death that is as sudden as an eye blink.

Would you read that story?

Would it read like you would want?

Would you be the hero of your own story? Righting past wrongs. Living a full life. Or, would you waste the very ink it was written with? A story not worth telling.

Maybe, that is your question. Maybe you should ask yourself that very thing before your story is written.

A question within a story.

The story of your life.

And I asked this, because her story is still unfolding.

It could be considered a tragedy, be she herself wrote out that part.

So, when I asked her, “do you consider yourself a hero”, her answer was simply,

“I don’t know. Maybe some people see me that way. But I think we all rise above situations in life and we can all be hero’s.”

Be someones hero.