You lay on the bed watching me as I was getting changed.
I was dressed only in a bra and your Long Johns. 
I looked up, and saw you smiling at me.
"What?" I said, biting my lip. And you replied,
"I was just looking at you, standing there, and even in my Long Johns you look kinda beautiful."

Chapters of the Mind.

My stomach clenches
tight as a knot
and for a second I struggle to breathe.
Wet sleeves,
tired eyes,
weary mind.


If you can't attach importance to happiness then I serve no purpose, and therefore am useless.


I have never wanted these two things more
and it's not even for me but I hope to be there.
I'll tell everyone I was right and that it had to happen someday.


You're so beautifully deep,
but so deep that the light can't reach the bottom
and the darkness is dangerous.


I am a cliché, and I believe in all the ideals.
They happen and they are fun.


I am acutely aware.
I am watching.
I am feeling.


It worries me that every moment is so fragile but I intend to keep them.
It feels like I'm walking towards the end of the world and I might just fall off.


I suppose the only thing to do is go with it and see what happens, and capture the sunlight amongst the rain.