Pasttimes

Bitter words seem more amusing with charmer…

Eyes that of glass to see through be so vague, concluding in each sentence said sweet and confusing to the mind of youth.  Once boredom is no longer needed to embrace with big hugs, naive girls stand in pathways of pure hopefulness and open arms.

Ones that cannot follow suit with a simple giggle at the sight of you singing her up a riddle she couldn’t define, nor guess as a spat of past lines bounced around again and again. Ending in revelations unnoticed.  Though not before grasping air left of lived desire…whereas desire now lies in her eyes for the fool who blew up, phone lines singing past times of riddles she couldn’t say with her own mind in the right way to be called his. Still rapping sentences she sits in her school chair holding a dictionary, realizing the probability to reap benefits of words with no action and reaasuance is to only help the habit and give into slurred tunes spoken through a dry tongue and inconsiderate heart.

******

Body then becomes sadness like mealancholia in summer heat sucking every inch and leaving an inaudible voice with a mass of daydreams incorporate of idealment on what could’ve been versus what remains…

~Wordyqueen

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