some thoughts are better left unsaid,some thoughts are special enough that i thinkif i were to share them to the wrong personi'd spend my life, trying to get that thought back.
I'm a simple person,or, more so;I like to think I'm a simple person.You aren't a simple person,or, more so;I'm a simple person trying to figure out another.Your movements,Your facial expressions,Your words.I spend time figuring out,What every choice you make is all about,But, I am only to findThat even an individual like me, who is deemed as "smart" and "kind,"Will never be able to comprehend even a fraction of your mind.I'm a simple person,or, more so;
I want someone to care about mein the same way I care about you.I want someone to memorise little specific things about mein the same way that i do for you.I want someone to smile when they know they've made my day a little bit betterin the same way that I do for you.I want someone to be scared to lose me,to want to hold me,to consider risking their life,to cry themselves to sleep,to put on a specific perfume,to write me secret love notes only to never give them,to think about me as the love interest of their story,to relate the song to me,to say that i was their childhood crush,in the same way i do for you.
"i love you,"it's a 3-word phrase thatwhen taken out of contextis seemingly simplebut, in my humble opinionpushing the idea of love on anyone issickeningbecause"i love you"doesn't always mean"you're my everything"and"i love you"doesn't always mean"you're my forever"and maybe
Sweet Peace, where dost thou dwell? I humbly crave,Let me once know.I sought thee in a secret cave,And ask'd, if Peace were there,A hollow wind did seem to answer, No:Go seek elsewhere.I did; and going did a rainbow note:Surely, thought I,This is the lace of Peace's coat:I will search out the matter.But while I looked the clouds immediatelyDid break and scatter.Then went I to a garden and did spyA gallant flower,The crown-imperial: Sure, said I,
Nature -- the Gentlest Mother is,Impatient of no Child --The feeblest -- or the waywardest --Her Admonition mild --In Forest -- and the Hill --By Traveller -- be heard --Restraining Rampant Squirrel --Or too impetuous Bird --How fair Her Conversation --A Summer Afternoon --Her Household -- Her Assembly --And when the Sun go down --Her Voice among the AislesIncite the timid prayerOf the minutest Cricket --The most unworthy Flower --
If faithful souls be alike glorifiedAs angels, then my fathers soul doth see,And adds this even to full felicity,That valiantly I hells wide mouth o'erstride:But if our minds to these souls be descriedBy circumstances, and by signs that beApparent in us, not immediately,How shall my mind's white truth by them be tried?They see idolatrous lovers weep and mourn,And vile blasphemous conjurers to callOn Jesus name, and PharisaicalDissemblers feigne devotion. Then turn,O pensive soul, to God, for he knows bestThy true grief, for he put it in my breast.