the maximum volume of my ipod is six decibels lower than my heart's ability to tune you out.
write //
you're my serendipity - i wasn't looking for you, i wasn't expecting you, but i'm very lucky i met you.
basecode // leen.
Those words kept running circles in my mind, willing a cacophony of voices to drown out anything sane. It never ends, and I never win. Like the never-ending sea that surrounds us, that word holds too much in the between:
the vast desert between ‘black’ and ‘white’;
the colossal tundra between ‘yes’ and ‘no’;
the infinite universes that exists between ‘you’ and ‘me’.
Life is only beautiful because of the adventure of a million paths, but pain takes form of beautiful things, and you are one of them.
You are the first ‘maybe’. You are also the last. Between the spaces of our breaths in the dead of the night laid the immeasurable distance I could never cover even if I spent all eternity trying to reach your shores.
Oh maybe, just maybe… The unending possibilities burst from its seams and spilled across my lap, around me, and down the hill from the castle we built for ourselves. It filled valleys and formed lakes, then it reached as far as my eyes could see. Yet there was nothing of any worth (to you).
This is not a plea. This is not a letter. Even if the world gave me back all the innocence she took, I wouldn’t change a single thing. Because there was never a ‘we’, and ‘maybe’ never existed, because that’s what you and i are – only a soft, fading ‘if’.
Still, I thank God for you, I thank God for those days… and with anchors, I’ll drown them in the seas you helped put in place. I’ll bury them beneath the dreams that built the castle, I’ll set them on fire and cast them against the skies. But you won’t be able to see anything because your heart is no longer here.
This is, indeed, a reply. This is a farewell. But I’m on my way to believing (myself) and I’m not alone.
The spaces that used to be empty are now filled with the infinite ‘maybe’s of tomorrow, and the perfect darkness above my head is now punched with little holes, pieces of heaven fighting to shine through.
you're my serendipity - i wasn't looking for you, i wasn't expecting you, but i'm very lucky i met you.basecode // leen.
#9 @ 11.12.12
My favourite word is not ‘maybe’. It is, possibly, the word used most, but it is not my favourite word.Those words kept running circles in my mind, willing a cacophony of voices to drown out anything sane. It never ends, and I never win. Like the never-ending sea that surrounds us, that word holds too much in the between:
the vast desert between ‘black’ and ‘white’;
the colossal tundra between ‘yes’ and ‘no’;
the infinite universes that exists between ‘you’ and ‘me’.
Life is only beautiful because of the adventure of a million paths, but pain takes form of beautiful things, and you are one of them.
You are the first ‘maybe’. You are also the last. Between the spaces of our breaths in the dead of the night laid the immeasurable distance I could never cover even if I spent all eternity trying to reach your shores.
Oh maybe, just maybe… The unending possibilities burst from its seams and spilled across my lap, around me, and down the hill from the castle we built for ourselves. It filled valleys and formed lakes, then it reached as far as my eyes could see. Yet there was nothing of any worth (to you).
This is not a plea. This is not a letter. Even if the world gave me back all the innocence she took, I wouldn’t change a single thing. Because there was never a ‘we’, and ‘maybe’ never existed, because that’s what you and i are – only a soft, fading ‘if’.
Still, I thank God for you, I thank God for those days… and with anchors, I’ll drown them in the seas you helped put in place. I’ll bury them beneath the dreams that built the castle, I’ll set them on fire and cast them against the skies. But you won’t be able to see anything because your heart is no longer here.
This is, indeed, a reply. This is a farewell. But I’m on my way to believing (myself) and I’m not alone.
The spaces that used to be empty are now filled with the infinite ‘maybe’s of tomorrow, and the perfect darkness above my head is now punched with little holes, pieces of heaven fighting to shine through.
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