Velma

 

velma

your pretty little hands on my soul

dip your hands and touch the skies

pulsing your fingers into the stars

i was hiding through the mania

behind my forced smiles and empty hellos

remind me of what i was

who i was – no more

no longer the girl from yesterday- a memory of a thought

that lives beyond the boundaries of time and space

i have lived an eternity-

escaping the vision of the hand in the morgue

the disaster of my crisis – the death of she

the evolution of my essence- the bearing of all the lives

i have lived

paving the paths to the gardens of my soul

in spring i come home

Dreams

Dreams.. I’ve always thought of dreams to be somewhat magical and spiritual. Because when our bodies are at rest and we are not conscious, our minds and our unconsciousness are taken on an adventure. I’m led to believe that these adventures are conducted by our Souls.

Our Souls know what we want, what we need, and what we CRAVE the most. However, they also show us what we don’t want, what we despise and what we FEAR the most in life.

And when I dream of you..

I know my Soul longs for your touch across my bare skin, for your cold eyes to hypnotize me once more. My Soul reminds me.

Reminds me of the bittersweet feeling you filled me with. Reminds me that you are no good for me.

Poor and broken you are. One day.

One day you will find love.