A million candles lay on a sand made of gold
They sing a song of limerence, sad and bold
Carefully sipping from a glass made of steel
Oh, how beautiful it is to feel.

I can scent the petrichor wrestling with the air
As my mind blows away blindly falling in love with a morning prayer
But your shadow still makes my heart puerile
Oh, how inert it is to feel.

I shall make a blanket of the heavenly blue sky
And maybe then it will turn violet for you and I
But till then it’s pitch black, almost unreal
Oh, how violent it is to feel.


About whatsername

Sadness somehow squeezed itself into this decomposed heart of mine and as soon as it stepped into the lonely rooms of my soul all doors shut bringing home a present of infinite winter. A legend once said to paint beamish words on a piece of paper so sadness may find it's place on a shelf between made up stories and ring the truth of infinite sadness. View all posts by whatsername

2 responses to “Limerence

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