I was a poet, in my dream. Kisses fell like snow falls like I cannot recall upon wakening. Words embraced me in my mind and I never wanted to leave them behind, but they flew from my mouth to fly south with all the other birds of paradise. Even my goodbyes left me, and all I could do was what I know- hold and love and kiss like snow.
I have a lot of weird dreams, in case it wasn't obvious.
I like writing poetry. Not all of it is going to be a historical epic or an ode to something. These are like little glimpses of the subway in my mind; my train of thought isn't always artsy or symbolic or deep or meaningful, but I like to think that art takes ordinary things and makes people see a sort of beauty in them. So, look around- I've been doing this for a while. Enjoy ♥
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