Yearning to be sitting in a field of Marigolds, the soft petals swaying in the wind, spots of little suns and stars adorning the stems and i’m aching with fervor to swim in its ocean of remarkable beauty.
it’s a field of yarn, tangling within each other as butterflies sat at its plush chest and fed off its sweet nectar.
it’s years of intense longing to grasp the person who’s no doubt, an epitome of the word yellow, considering the streaks of warmth they make you feel, the moment you intertwine your dainty fingers with theirs.
it’s Everywhere, every nook and cranny, every drop of golden sunshine and every river of torn petals by a sad lover.
it’s the desire to be the one to drink in the laugh of a lover and drown in their beauty, the everlasting desire to hold on to something that made you feel more alive than anything else in the entire world.
Lullabies, slurred drunken words, confessions of love and laughs.
sounds perfect, doesn’t it? it really is.
lullabies in a hushed tone, stroking each other’s hair and whispering in the cold air of the night. She takes off her pale yellow dress and they watch rom-coms with a sparkling bottle of blonde champagne. They grip each other with everything they have, and everything they are, but it still doesn’t feel remotely close enough. Their touches feel like butter, their whispers sound like honey; but they don’t even get to finish the movie, because amidst all the hustling, they fall into a sea of dreams, muttering a string of love letters to each other, their fingers clasped together in an embrace as their hearts reach over and intertwine.
Outstanding. Odd. Omnipotent.
is what i think
when i gaze
into your eyes.
brown? i don’t know. can’t really figure it out considering every time you look at me it feels like my heart is lodged in my throat with no way to breathe, and all i can see is a thousand shades of browns, yellows and oranges far from my reach. it truly feels like the sun decided to take refuge and find comfort in your eyelids, because every time i look into your eyes, the thought of you consumes me, it fills me whole and feels like you take a little piece of me with you, and i never want you to give it back.
Wanderlust.
The strong desire to wander and explore the earth. How wondrous it is to want to run away, to leave, to not belong, yet strongly desire to belong somewhere. It hurts, because it’s all i can feel clawing at my skin, yet it feels like it can never be quenched nor satisfied, except when i pour my heart out to the sky.
I look at it. In all it’s glory, i look at it.
And then, i see it. I see the shades of pineapple, peach, cream, mustard, lemon, bumblebee, banana, tuscany, corn, canary, gold, daffodils, butter, fire, honey, apricot, beige and amber that watercolor the depths of the sky and paint a picture no one can decipher. Is it really even there?
It hurts, not being able to touch it. My fingertips burn and ache with the need to grasp a cloud of warmth and feel it spread through me, warming up every cold and torn part of me until i’m completely healed. it’s medicine, coating the skies and healing whoever stares hard enough at it. I’m mesmerized. It’s very beautiful, i think. Every shade of every color a work of art. Can i reach it?
The smell of burning wood and crackle of fire sways me into a daydream, the cold nips at my skin but i’m warm, so warm and fulfilled inside that all i can make sense of right now is the nostalgia taking over every part of my being, it’s stuck in my throat and i’m choking on it. I’m so overwhelmed, but when goosebumps adorn every stretch of skin, i’m relieved again. Why does it feel so heavy?
It’s a compliment really, to be associated with the color yellow, for it’s the warmest thing anyone could have the pleasure of experiencing, it tugs and grips on your heartstrings until all you can make sense of, all you can really comprehend, is the fact that you’re drowning with the need to gasp for air because no, for the life of you, you have never encountered something so raw yet so magical to take over every sinew or muscle in your body and senses, all at once bringing you to a pleasure no one had the chance to feel in their bones,
until you.
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By Hala Nasar.
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