He and She.

NOTETHING:

Love stuff makes me feel weird. But I like love stuff. Cheesy love stuff, to be specific. And I wrote this a while back, and had completely forgotten about it. It's a short simple thing, so.. yeah.

I hope you like my cheese fest, I guess.

He was baffled by how so much beauty found no beauty all. He had fallen in love with Love itself, and he had expected it to love itself. He instead had fallen in love with Love that fell victim to hatred. So in turn, he was a victim her labyrinth, and he hated to love it, but he couldn’t help it.  

She was baffled by how a man as potent as him, as strong as him, as wonderful as him, could have ever found such little littleness in her pathetic little. He held the entire world on his shoulders, and he smiled as if the weight of the world were only his wings. He laughed as if he could, and he can. And he knew it, but he was never the type to flaunt it. He brought her so much that she didn’t deserve. He was beyond her words; Beyond her littler words; Beyond her might; Beyond her. But he was all she ever needed. And who would’ve known how mesmerizing a single smile was? She could have almost felt herself floating in that crooked smile. How the world lifted, and she was invincible.

He knew he didn’t deserve her. She had deserved so much more, and so much grander. He knew he wasn’t quiet enough for her, and the only Enough that he could have possibly give her was a Heaven that wasn’t in his grasp. But he had fallen too deeply.

So he went down on his knee, and he did the impossible—the imposter!

He went down his knee, and he held her hand, and he asked her for her world.

And so they said: I do. 

Our Room

YOU CAN SKIP THIS:
I've been having some problems with writing lately. Everything I've been writing has been absolutely terrible. So, this might be a little... bad. But, I just wanted to share stuff anyway.
This is why I never write introductions or notes or whatever, I'm so bad with them, it's humiliating.

So, yeah! What I'm trying to say is, I haven't written in a while, so this might be absolute garbage, and I might remove it tomorrow.
Thank you.


--------------

We are the people of Glass.

We are the victims of this Black Supremacy.

We are the ones, who have hung above the floor,

In the room where silence is always kept,

As we sing our own lullaby,

To hush that voice from yelling a little too loudly,

Because now, we wouldn’t the other room to hear.

We are the people, who are friends with knives,

And ropes, and other metals too.

Sometimes we dance with our knees to our hearts,

And our hands to our eyes,

In the room where silence is kept,

As we sing our own lullaby,

To hush the voice from crying a little too loudly,

Because now, we wouldn’t the other room to see.

We are the people hidden from the world,

But exposed a little too often.

We are the silent tears,

The friends of death,

The darkest stars,

As we sing our own lullaby,

To hush the voices from screaming a little too loudly,

Because now—

You’re a little too late.