I write so much from the memory of feeling that people often think im lovesick but i havn't actually been lovesick in a very long time! but what would i be if i was not an imaginative romantic??
Always,
~Kitty
The wind blows
And the evening dances
Memories flicker in this midnight light
In all the splendour of our darkness
In these desperate drifts of our desires
Yet what were they?
A fleeting touch
Stolen words inside a stolen moment
When all we were were stolen hearts
I fall and feel the breaking
A nothingness in the emptiness
Of late nights and later mornings
How do I dream when I know nothing
Of the intricacies of lovers lines
And yet, could this be something
If he turns and smiles my way
And yet can I hope for anything
When I fear to give myself away
And if I claim a lover
How slowly will I learn
That is not only stuff of make believe
And novels deep in lies
But it’s possible to hold to
A deep simple love and thrive?
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