in these days we’ll live in love, and like stubborn children we’ll hold on.
becoming untamed by this wild feeling, it lets us loose.
but we’re grown up. chasing down amber roads,
and you tuck back my golden hair, kiss my shoulder, and tell me to always be near.
i’ll make you promises that i know you trust, to find the gold beneath the husk.
and when autumn comes i’ll miss the heat, sticky skin and white bed sheets.
now all the birds in the yard have taken off in the wind- it’s the last time i’ll see them
again till spring. you’re black tea eyes are waiting, watching. your fog breath on the window glass.
all the clock’s unnumbered tickings counting out the silence passed,
like when we lay on the naked floor, listening to the rain come in the front door.
and the peace beneath the floorboards seeps sleepily into our skin,
along with aches of the cold in our young and old bones. so slumber-ridden, my tired eyes.
well i love you, my dream boy. i love you as the leaves are born to turn and die.
and even the wind is howling, a simple-minded, jealous cry
because it’s just the same as us- it doesn’t want to know, it wants to feel.
before the sun sets too soon, before the brightness in our eyes fades away.
this season i’m forgetting the crickets, and remembering your laugh.
wrapped in your blanket arms, your comforting truth lasts
as warmth in my fingers from your soft hot palms,
or silence under the autumn air, where the mountains wait, calm.
and the wild young feeling sleeps inside my veins, they say it’ll only lead me astray.
but everyday i’ll give in to it, for you- my unconquerable soul.
to never die young, to never grow old.
I suppose it’s time to acknowledge that the last drops of summer are just about drunk, and I will miss its sweetness greatly. Fall always comes around again, a bit unwelcome by me at first, but then I feel that cooling wind against my skin, and it feels like change. It’s so strange how one day it just shows up, and you know it’s time. Time for new colors, new light, new thoughts… but I get more nostalgic during this season. It awakens a part of me that sleeps deep in my bones.
I used to write. It was a living part of my being. I would spend days and days in a poetic daze… musing over words and typing away into an overflowing file of my prose. It feels like a different life, now, when I think back to those times. How things were so different, how my passions were the same, and yet shone differently. I’ve always been in love with words, and expressing myself through them. I think I know that that’s the most true part of my self, the most intimate. I think that’s why I struggle now to pull my thoughts away from the public life of being a blogger, enough to become intimate with that passion again.
I’ve been spending some time here and there, collecting my old and new writings into a complete file, thinking over the idea of publishing them all into a new book. I’d love to incorporate them into my new lifestyle, so that all my passions are one again. If you happened to like my scribbles up above, leave a comment! I’d love some feedback! Should I put together a book full of love and life and youth and wanderlust?
I’d love to know your thoughts!
Dress: Raven & Lilly
Denim Shirt: Windsor Store
Boots: Faryl Robin for Free People
Clutch: Hera by Day
Compass Necklace & Turquoise Ring: Midsummer Star
Coin Necklace & Black Stone Ring: Wild Heart Jewelry