Ephemeral thoughts. 

Sometimes my mind is an ocean. And my thoughts ; they drown me. 
I’ve always wanted to be like it,like water which slips right through your hand but is strong enough to hold a ship.
Ironic,isn’t it? 

My name means eternal, although life being ephemeral.

 

Sometimes my mind is a garden.

And my thoughts? My thoughts are seeds. 

They either grow flowers or weeds.
Sometimes my mind is a galaxy

with my thoughts floating randomly like stars.

-trying to orbit in exact circles. 

Forming as they float.
Sometimes my mind is the blue sky and my thoughts like the clouds ; disintegrated and distorted.
Sometimes my mind is like a changing season and my thoughts unnoticed and free.

 

Sometimes my mind is an empty blank canvas and my thoughts are colours ; waiting to be smeared across the white canvas and create something beautiful, something purposeful.  
But to describe yourself and your thoughts with a bunch of metaphors is too harsh upon the person you want to be,the thing you want to se, the person you are already but fail to see; and you aren’t fathomable by any amount of words written inside of books because, no books can ever encase the stories that you’re born to live.

And yet you read and write and try to contain yourself into the amount of ink held in the barrel of your pen; trying to write a something that would impress and do justice to your mind and the thoughts that consume, yourself. 

Hiraeth 

I have a hiraeth. Your hands. 

My favourite feeling. 

Your fingerprints, stained my timid soul. 

Also my hands. 

Tried to wash you off. 

Wash off, the last vestiges of you. 

But ; I couldn’t. 

Because you’re my hiraeth, a home which maybe never was. 

You were a part of my universe, perhaps, sadly, the black hole.

What happens when the love you’d cross oceans for becomes the reason you want to drown in it?

And it’s not his eyes, which’ve deceived you. Which seemed like stars were bottled and shining with his irises. His smile seemed like moon’s crescent had been put between his lips. 
         But most importantly, his mind was the most beautiful thing ever, with galaxies in his mind and thoughts like stars, which fathomed into perfect constellations. 

      Because when I met you, flowers started growing in the darkest parts and corners of my mind. 

       But only if I could grow these kinds of flowers in my backyard. 

          The deepest,darkest corners of my mind wouldn’t be filled with these scorched flowers,dust,webs of forgotten dreams and promises we used to keep. 

         These are the corners I no longer visit. The walls of my soul are covered in the words I will never have the courage to speak.