wildchile
Sometimes you call it stealing and sometimes it just ends up stolen. Hearts, these blood pumping organs, symbols of something greater than the physical version of itself. For love is the truth. And truth equals freedom.
Comfort.
So official. There's history here. We wandered through the various wonders in our minds and arrive at this place. This special place. Familiar. Biblical. I want to stay. Can we stay?
We made love on the tattered sofa and woke up to the moon beaming in the distance. "I'm hungry," I whispered, mainly to myself. Without a thought, he gets up, grabs a bagel from the shelf and pops it in the toaster. Simple things yield big rewards. It's a cycle, after all.
The way I'm feeling right now? Lick them.
Musicals surround my world on a daily. When I step outside the door, I hear Stevie, or even Kendrick. It's constant. Honestly, the soundtrack remains one of the dopest things about my day.
'Real recognizes real' is what they like to say. I'm still figuring it out.
Once you came into my home and I was pleased. We got drunk off of beautiful glances, easy touching, and we giggled over music in the corner of the kitchen. We made love and then you went home. If it was only a visit. If it were only home.
Paying homage to the past in an effort to destroy the demons of a love that once tried to destroy me. Many memories will fade. The lessons will stay.
Mechanically a frequency, but also emotionally a frequency. The basis of many memories on a small dark street. Inside our home, sound was light.
writing since 2013 · 10 entries · 10 days shown up
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homelovestayfrequencymemoriesdestroyrealsometimestruthmechanicallyemotionallybasisdarkstreetinsidesound