Something That Really Hits Me Is The Way Neil Reads The Opening Poem By Thoreau At The Very First Dps

My wildest dream is to have a wild and untamed garden full of flowers and Vines and Pathways and hidden benches and alcoves like that Secret Garden

Poetry doesn't have to rhyme, it just has to touch someone where your hands couldn't.

No matter how far we go, how far we tread, the truth that stays hidden, shall never be said.

Other people's emotions are deep and complex and beautiful but mine are proof that there is rot at the core of my being

Creative writing inspired by this painting ^^ __________________________________

The creature was beautiful. The way it flew around the mountain tops was more majestic than anything the explorer had ever seen It’s pearl white scales seemed to shimmer in the moon light, and the stars were reflected clearly in its violet eyes, a feat that was visible even from the ground. The sight was mesmerising. The creature flew around the mountain tops looking like it hadn’t a care in the world, so unlike the people back at his home village. If it wasn’t for those people, the traveller wouldn’t have found this marvellous thing. Before, there had been no knowledge of this beast, but then one day, when the traveller was about ten years of age, a rumour spread about this beast with sapphire eyes, massive claws that could rip you to shreds in one blow, and a beast that could breathe blue fire. Those rumours spread quickly, but the traveller knew that the description was false, and so he set his life to find this creature, and now that he had, he knew that the rumours were false, and that this beast was one of cruelty and not one of cruelty. Oh, how he wished to go back and tell them how wrong they had been. But now, as he stood at the bottom of one of the mountains, the beast clashed eyes with him, and he knew he was ready to go to the next life. Maybe there will be more adventures awaiting me there, he thought as he laid down and floated into oblivion, content with how his life had turned out.

And,  Wherever I go,  Wherever I end up being, these eyes, These eyes keep looking, only for you For, you're still the face My grieving heart keeps searching for in a crowd, For, I had once found my meaning in love, And I found it, with you.  But then one day you left, taking away With you the meaning I found. So I kept searching, kept looking, in places, in Names, amongst faces, and not one of them yours. So tell me, where do I find another you. For, you're still the face My grieving heart keeps searching for in a crowd. For, I found my meaning, in love,  And I found it, with you.

Munchi

I used to build dreams about you.

F. Scott Fitzgerald

"he is fictional and dead" TO YOU MAYBE

I talked to him personally yesterday and he offered me some tea

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

𝑌𝑜𝑢 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑠𝑜 𝑚𝑒𝑎𝑛

𝐼 𝑐𝑎𝑛’𝑡 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑛 𝑠𝑒𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑏𝑒𝑎𝑢𝑡𝑦 𝑜𝑓 𝑐𝑜𝑙𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑠 𝑜𝑛 𝑏𝑢𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑓𝑙𝑖𝑒𝑠

𝑤𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠.

𝐼𝑡 𝑖𝑠 𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑏𝑒𝑐𝑎𝑢𝑠𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢…

♡ xoxo-Suzy ♡

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-