You Are The Best Thing

25 Jan

It’s been a long day, baby
Things ain’t been going my way
And now i need you here
To clear my mind all the time

And baby
The way you move me, it’s crazy
It’s like you see right through me
And make it easier
Believe me, you don’t even have to try ..

-Ray LaMontagne

I thought I’d share a slice of my mind tonight; How I’m feeling tonight, it’s almost like the colors reflect

my hopes, they feel almost smoky, and transparent.

I really enjoy wearing clothes that are clean and classic, they have to feel a certain way,

I have to be able to close my eyes and imagine myself somewhere wild,

a fairytale lost in a second of imagination,

it’s not too late if I live in that second of that burst of light,

I feel alive.

We’re all mad here,

so what do you think……?

calilovesyou

Love

19 May
   

From – Twenty Poems of Love by Pablo Neruda

I can write the saddest lines tonight.

Write for example: ‘The night is fractured
and they shiver, blue, those stars, in the distance’

The night wind turns in the sky and sings.
I can write the saddest lines tonight.
I loved her, sometimes she loved me too.

On nights like these I held her in my arms.
I kissed her greatly under the infinite sky.

She loved me, sometimes I loved her too.
How could I not have loved her huge, still eyes.

I can write the saddest lines tonight.
To think I don’t have her, to feel I have lost her.

Hear the vast night, vaster without her.
Lines fall on the soul like dew on the grass.

What does it matter that I couldn’t keep her.
The night is fractured and she is not with me.

That is all. Someone sings far off. Far off,
my soul is not content to have lost her.

As though to reach her, my sight looks for her.
My heart looks for her: she is not with me

The same night whitens, in the same branches.
We, from that time, we are not the same.

I don’t love her, that’s certain, but how I loved her.
My voice tried to find the breeze to reach her.

Another’s kisses on her, like my kisses.
Her voice, her bright body, infinite eyes.

I don’t love her, that’s certain, but perhaps I love her.
Love is brief: forgetting lasts so long.

Since, on these nights, I held her in my arms,
my soul is not content to have lost her.

Though this is the last pain she will make me suffer,
and these are the last lines I will write for her.