(Hey! Just started reading the Juline books this last weekend. I love them!
Although I'm so sad that Ryoku died.
Anyway, hope you enjoy this. )
And then I saw Ryoku's warm smile tear abjectly at my heart. My heart heating in the existence of it's own unknown awareness.
His age abating at my every move, the pushing question of fleeting thoughts never knowing an earth to spread it's heaven over those caring and ardent eyes.
Myself sighing in the door of an open cage awaiting for my wings to wide and spread out among the droopy skies, leading me to believe I was going back, flying through the wind. Audaciously alone in the cycle of life.
Picking you up before the blood leads to wounds, and drifting away with you into the haze.
Now you're asking little Juline why she can't fly in the name of your death, only because she could not spread her wings fast enough between the slight hesitations for a loss of words mixed with breathing tears, Because she was loosing the one who taught her how to fly.
Little birdie Juline locked up in a cage, her emotions the scissors cutting jagged little heart shapes out of her wings.
Who will teach her how to re-grow her feathers and fly away when the air grows cold?
She is a color noticed most during a cloudy day, sitting by herself through the snow falls of the death month, Winter.
Anyway, hope you enjoy this. )
And then I saw Ryoku's warm smile tear abjectly at my heart. My heart heating in the existence of it's own unknown awareness.
His age abating at my every move, the pushing question of fleeting thoughts never knowing an earth to spread it's heaven over those caring and ardent eyes.
Myself sighing in the door of an open cage awaiting for my wings to wide and spread out among the droopy skies, leading me to believe I was going back, flying through the wind. Audaciously alone in the cycle of life.
Picking you up before the blood leads to wounds, and drifting away with you into the haze.
Now you're asking little Juline why she can't fly in the name of your death, only because she could not spread her wings fast enough between the slight hesitations for a loss of words mixed with breathing tears, Because she was loosing the one who taught her how to fly.
Little birdie Juline locked up in a cage, her emotions the scissors cutting jagged little heart shapes out of her wings.
Who will teach her how to re-grow her feathers and fly away when the air grows cold?
She is a color noticed most during a cloudy day, sitting by herself through the snow falls of the death month, Winter.