we run now

laughing with no cares

I'm happy with who we've become

who I am

even if I can't own this feeling forever

even if my youth does not last

I'll keep running with you

forever running forward

towards our dreams

towards our hopes

even if we aren't young in twenty years

we'll be young here

in the maze of our minds

forward

into the next phase

it’s ten in the morning

you’re crying again.

you’re blue as a butterfly,

you bathe in your rain.

told you not to get comfortable

in that pain,

passing time rarely changes

anything

if you stay the same.

let me remind you

of how pretty the heights were

when you flew them

back then,

you promised you’d try to

spread these w i n g s

again.

When you are feeling blue, the darkest of blues there is

I know you feel it deep within, a never ending blue river of pain

Remember that just like you, blue has so many shades

It does not need to be the darkest of them all

Think of a deep blue lake, one where you could relax

Imagine this is a glittering light blue, the kind of colour that makes you feel warm inside

Imagine yourself right there, starting to feel that warmth

Let the lighter shade take over, let the deep dark blue drain away.

Were he old enough to have been breeched for he’d outgrown his short white dresses, he’d wear blouses with rounded or pointed collars and knickers (knee points, nickerbockers) and stockings or knee socks. If it were a dress suit, it would likely be accompanied by a machine-made lace collar, probably to his great chagrin. Other styles were ruffled or Eton collars with or without bows. Sailor suits were also popular, and some ruffled collars were detachable and fashioned in sailor suit style. Costuming can rely on yokes and epaulettes, as well. He would likely wear a jacket or might sport a cape. Boys usually wore hats including boater hats. Caps were coming into fashion, as well. Perhaps a flat cap that later gained popularity with newsboys would be worn. Footwear would be laceup boots, although shoes were gaining favor for dressy occasions.

Accessories that were commonplace would be canes and cigarettes, for legislation banning the sale of tobacco to minors was ineffectual, by and large. He might also have a rifle at hand, a ball, or a beverage in a long, stoppered bottle. Though the practice of modern orthodontics was still in its infancy, some appliances were in use. So you might have a boy don headgear.

While in isolation

My emotions live through writing

At my keyboard, I am alive

Awake, to happiness, sadness

Joy and grief

And so much more

I am numb without writing

Unable to feel or understand

Trying to feel anything in isolation

Is like trying to hold water in your hands

It’ll never stay

You need a cup and writing is my cup

When I have it in my hand

I am alive

For a temporary spell

Until I let it go

And become numb once more

Truly, I am glad

That while everything else is far

Writing is still here beside me

I’d be a shell of myself

Without writing.

un-ending slumber infuse her living days, reality never ceasing

her wonderous dreams. how to make her come alive?

maybe a sweet kiss would finally do the trick,

like in mere fairytales. may love be the key to unlocking

her sanity. but she is too full of her own reveries to

open her heart to anything else.

staring out over horizons, watching auroras evelop the awakening world

glimpsing the dawn as the moon arises up, the world finally asleep.

phony dawn, sealed in daydreams. gazing at the sun through the moon,

but dear, dawn comes before sunrise. you will never see it

during midnight.

she'd rather walk in streets, eyes closed, than open;

i. lie in fields of wild dandelions than sunflowers; so she can wish on their seeds, scattering them deep into the earth

ii. catch the ends of provisional rainbows than admiring them from a window sill; hopefully she'll unearth pots of her strayed senses

iii. toss silver dimes into bottoms of fountains than saving copper pennies; her dimes carry segments of her whispering hopes, drowning them in wavering trickles

iv. count shooting stars than gaze at the full moon; maybe if she hopes on enough stars, the sky will finally discern her

now, to say all that was delusional, she would pity

my ignorance. to strip all that away, she would no longer

have a beating heart. she lives to illusions, vicious.

aurora.

too many

words

are left

u n s p o k e n

restrained

by the

fear

of

m a k i n g

o u r s e l v e s

h e a r d