Before The World Shakes You
When the graininess of any photo capturing the moment would mimic the graininess of your sight.
The sleep fighting earnestly to rest
in the corners of your beautiful, beautiful eyes.
in the corners of your beautiful, beautiful eyes.
The window drenched in the condensation of the night, your earthly body
floating in the soft cotton,
with an intangible and unattainable likeness of the morning fog
that dances along the cobblestone streets outside,
through the valley beyond,
and into the distant lines and shades
of hills and mountains.
floating in the soft cotton,
with an intangible and unattainable likeness of the morning fog
that dances along the cobblestone streets outside,
through the valley beyond,
and into the distant lines and shades
of hills and mountains.
The silence sounds as beautiful as a J Tillman song.
It’s lyrical nothingness and 3:4 timing in your mind as the house’s ageing body barely makes a creak. The sound of silence dances with itself
like no one is watching,
a movement
within you
whilst everything is still
in those early, uninterrupted hours.
It’s lyrical nothingness and 3:4 timing in your mind as the house’s ageing body barely makes a creak. The sound of silence dances with itself
like no one is watching,
a movement
within you
whilst everything is still
in those early, uninterrupted hours.
