Samson.
1
I wrote this a couple days ago. My writting doesnt seem very correct, I know. But it's a way I use to better express myself.Setting free from regular grammatical rules... Words like " slowlier " and "unhappened" don't exist, I know, but still, I "make them up" to re-enforce my idea.
Hope you enjoy it ;)
I met Samson on a sunny Tuesday afternoon. He sat under the golden tree, on the top of the hill. He made time go by slowly. Slowlier than any other eyes could.
So I threw away my wrist watch. I had no clock.
The shines of those green fields come to my eyes as golden drops of a sunset. Did he even realize I knew about him? Gazing at the horizon, he forgot about history and politics.It was such a warm emptyness.filling my heart.
A river stretched onto the end of the infinite pastures.In between the monocromatic fields.I can feel the warm orange sun on my face.My heart slows down.I look around and find it nowhere. Samson never got up.He sat under the golden-like tree, which shimmered with the sound of a summer fall-like wind. I feel the warmth on my cheeks. The memory of the unhappened. He never stood up, because that moment was everlasting.
He looked at me.Gazed, like as if I was a sunset...His eyes.His eyes had... were the shine of the sun. The light... His hair.His dark hair was darker than night.His brown streaks... His face. I can't remember his features.Samson has no face, in my head.
I have no light in my bedroom.It's black, white and grey.I remember...
his back.laying in bed, by my side.I looked at him.I touched his back.I smiled. but he wasn't Samson. Samson remains sitting under that tree. He never stood up.
The picture of his silhouette was him.Just that image made me fall inlove.Makes me want to hold him in my arms. But I don’t need to. His picture is love.
And when I feel alone. I am. I’m not.
Samson remains under that golden tree, on that same sunny Tuesday afternoon. Time stopped, you know?
Samson remains there.
His breath is the summer fall-like breeze.
Hope you enjoy it ;)
I met Samson on a sunny Tuesday afternoon. He sat under the golden tree, on the top of the hill. He made time go by slowly. Slowlier than any other eyes could.
So I threw away my wrist watch. I had no clock.
The shines of those green fields come to my eyes as golden drops of a sunset. Did he even realize I knew about him? Gazing at the horizon, he forgot about history and politics.It was such a warm emptyness.filling my heart.
A river stretched onto the end of the infinite pastures.In between the monocromatic fields.I can feel the warm orange sun on my face.My heart slows down.I look around and find it nowhere. Samson never got up.He sat under the golden-like tree, which shimmered with the sound of a summer fall-like wind. I feel the warmth on my cheeks. The memory of the unhappened. He never stood up, because that moment was everlasting.
He looked at me.Gazed, like as if I was a sunset...His eyes.His eyes had... were the shine of the sun. The light... His hair.His dark hair was darker than night.His brown streaks... His face. I can't remember his features.Samson has no face, in my head.
I have no light in my bedroom.It's black, white and grey.I remember...
his back.laying in bed, by my side.I looked at him.I touched his back.I smiled. but he wasn't Samson. Samson remains sitting under that tree. He never stood up.
The picture of his silhouette was him.Just that image made me fall inlove.Makes me want to hold him in my arms. But I don’t need to. His picture is love.
And when I feel alone. I am. I’m not.
Samson remains under that golden tree, on that same sunny Tuesday afternoon. Time stopped, you know?
Samson remains there.
His breath is the summer fall-like breeze.
0
Ichihara Kuyo wrote...
Space Cowboy wrote...
Posting to reinforce my opinion.which is? ;P
I want your nuts .-.
The way you write just moves something in me. It might just be my dick stirring, but how you write is something I won't get tired of.
0
Space Cowboy wrote...
Ichihara Kuyo wrote...
Space Cowboy wrote...
Posting to reinforce my opinion.which is? ;P
I want your nuts .-.
The way you write just moves something in me. It might just be my dick stirring, but how you write is something I won't get tired of.
:) thank you, dear gentleman ;)<3