Little thoughts that come and go, and I usually let them go, always hoping for the really big ones to come, or else stretch the little ones to something big, perhaps so much that it ends up sounding odd than convincing. I guess that's what a 'mismatch' or 'inappropriate' means. So, as a new resolution, I had decided to not let the little affectations leave unseen, and I have resolved to not make a mountain out of them either. Let them be the sand dunes they are.
I wish this comes to be the first of many. It feels bad not doing anything, but it's worse to leave something hanging, I guess. I won't do that.
If you are just a wisp of smoke,
that deep inside, my lung behold,
with every gesture,
every quote,
a tenner touch, to thousandfold;
and poles of heat in cold, apart,
my force of say, this wind retards;
in heaven stead,
in hell construed,
struggling for a moment's truth...
But you are just a wisp of smoke,
in daffodils and diamonds, clothed;
no ocean strained,
no feather moved,
as off my chest, to the world I blew.
that deep inside, my lung behold,
with every gesture,
every quote,
a tenner touch, to thousandfold;
and poles of heat in cold, apart,
my force of say, this wind retards;
in heaven stead,
in hell construed,
struggling for a moment's truth...
But you are just a wisp of smoke,
in daffodils and diamonds, clothed;
no ocean strained,
no feather moved,
as off my chest, to the world I blew.
I wish this comes to be the first of many. It feels bad not doing anything, but it's worse to leave something hanging, I guess. I won't do that.
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