I want to trip the light fantastic toe on the shards of our broken hearts until our feet drain.

I want to hold you hand until I can no longer feel your tremble.

I want to buss your sugar dipped lips until the words of doubt cease escaping from them.

I desire to report the color of your deep sea blue optics and get caught in the waves.

I desire accept pictures of the places that requite me the aforementioned feeling the way your smile does.

I want to run.

I desire to throw away our broken dreams and drown them in our tears.

I want you. Because my parents always warned me nearly the drugs in the streets, but never of the boys with night hair and leather jackets.

I desire to dance on the shards of our broken hearts until our feet bleed.

I want y'all. It doesn't make sense..

merely I desire you.

I want you and me, forever.

Y'all saw museums in me, when all I saw were empty hallways.

If I knew how to write sonnet.

I would write about you.

I would carefully place my words in the well-nigh articulate fashion only to describe the way you make my heart skip a beat.

I would rhyme my sentences and every and so oftentimes I'd compare you to a summers day.

I would compliment those deep sea blueish eyes and make them sound like the about magnificent thing that they are.

If I could write a sonnet I would write about real 18-carat love.

I would explain each subtle footling thing that you do.

I'd have words such as, sonder,serendipity, wondrous, and combine them all together into forming your name.

If I could write a sonnet I would take all the things that are cute in this globe and they would seem like zip compared to your smile.

I would describe your express mirth as a perfect melody.

I would make sure that whoever was reading it would feel that spark, that instantaneous joy that I feel every fourth dimension I'm with you.

If I could write a sonnet I'd describe the way your eyes light upward like New York metropolis after dark.

I would write almost you in every way y'all deserve.

If I could write a sonnet.

I'd write about real love.

If I could write a sonnet, I'd write about you.

"Simply a door stopper..in this ghost boondocks."

"The older I get the lonelier I get.

The hands that once carved me are long gone. This ghost town has left me empty, this sign taped to me leaves people to just glance at me. I have missing pieces and I'm split up downwards the eye. I'chiliad cleaved. But no one is here to gear up me."

"I'k the simply thing in this empty room. All I hear are the echoing voices of those who do not wish to stay. "

"Nosotros are the chair manner to heaven.. at to the lowest degree that's what they tell u.s..."

(Here'due south a pic for today Nelson)

~GalpalRachelgreen

This is habitation.

The identify where I grew upwards.

Where I learned how to ride a cycle.

Where I learned how to drive a automobile.

This is dwelling house. the place I longed for as a kid.

But now abode is different.

This time home is not on 600 w.

Have me home.

To the place where I didn't worry.

To the identify Where I in one case felt whole.

Where I felt the collywobbles and the soft lips of that commencement buss.

Take me there.

To the bursts of laughter and inside jokes.

To those genuine smiles.

To the streets where we danced around and forgot our fears.

To the long talks on the phone and our vocal we'd sing at the top of our lungs.

Take me home.

Where there wasn't a intendance in the world.

You know that feeling?

Accept me home.

Not to the place where I sleep only the identify where I tin dream.

Take me into your arms. Where home feels the almost familiar.

Where it's just you lot and me and the stars.

I wanna become

Home.

This is dwelling house. Can you lot take me there?

Take me habitation.

Take me to the place where I belong.

Considering the roads are busy and the air is cold.

The horns are honking and the voices are yelling.

Have me home.

Because the tears are falling and it's your name that I grab myself calling for… every time I stray too far away from home.

(sorry for the over load of pictures.)

The foggy windows blurred my vision to which direction we were going.

At times I'd movement my paw beyond the common cold glass to see what finish light we were at.

The air current in my face up kept me laughing.

(Ethan rolled downward his window and made anybody one behind him annoyed except me considering I idea it was agreeable to watch him wave at everyone.)

When we finally got there, the air was biting, sharp, and made the theater feel centre warming.

Nosotros snapped.

We snapped and people on the rows beneath us caught on, only they don't sympathize what the snapping means.

I watched Karims optics.

Those genuine, innocent, and soft desperate eyes…

They made me want to hop on the side by side flight to India and learn a new linguistic communication.

The crowded streets and honking horns.

That's Downtown.

The chaos and business that keeps the urban center from sleeping woke me up.

That was downtown.

Abroad from the bubble for just a few hours. And just a few hours was all I needed.

Jan 26th 2018 gave downtown a whole new meaning.

Here's a motion picture from my journal of the Sundance film fest.