ethereal.otherworldly

United States of America

soft n sapphic

dreaming of goddesses, sunflowers and italian sunshine.

Message from Writer

every poem is a different style, leave me and my everchanging existence alone

Early

September 25, 2017

You like to watch the sunrise with her. 

She started it, actually. You remember. That morning, (though it was hardly morning) when you awoke to find her next to your bed, smiling her familiar, mischievous smile, the smile that invited you on so many adventures when you saw it. "C'mon. Know you're tired, but the sun'll be up soon. Need to see."

But you're used to it now. After all, it's a special time. A breath of air. Most everyone's asleep and you can have these precious minutes to yourself, to each other. You count the seconds together, from the first sliver of light beyond the mountains to the moment the big ball of fire has risen in all it's glory.

She'll take your hand.

You'll match up your breaths.

The world will still for a precious time.

There's nothing you look forward to more, is there? Nothing else in your life that gives you those emotions.

No, it's beyond that. You live for the sunrise, for running through the palace in your nightclothes and taking side passages and stifling giggles and stubbing toes. You live for early morning strides and sleepy words and tired sentences, spilling out and embracing you, surrounding you in peace. You live for sweaty palms and stolen bottles and blankets that aren't even supposed to be outside and pillows taken from bedrooms. You live for her hair and her smile and the way she talks about her love and you talk about yours, both knowing that no matter if you've met your soulmates and they're not each other you are still the best friends in the whole world.

You live for your sunrises.

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  • September 25, 2017 - 11:51am (Now Viewing)

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