Love is the feeling of sensations.
To hold a pain in your heart for someone,
To capture that pain-
Only making it whole when the lover is present.
It is the emptiness in the chest,
The gap when not in a presence-
Only filled by being touched,
Or held by the person we crave.
It is the thing that makes us wonder,
The emotion that makes us long.
It is the reason to go on after lost love and lost pain,
For the thought of a love out there,
For each of us deserves that love.
Envy is dark.
Envy is that of which we long to posses.
Envy is the will to have,
But not rightfully deserve.
Envy is the passion to have that does not belong to you.
Envy is like sleep,
When we crave it,
We envy people in comas.
Envy is the passion to be,
Other then being ourselves.
Being that of which we are not,
Longing to be of someone else’s possession,
So that it will always be ours.
Beauty is what others do not see.
It is everywhere and in everything.
Through every person a beauty lies within,
Through every moment holds an even bliss of content.
Beauty in itself is the flawless part we each contain.
Beauty surrounds the world,
Beauty is just not seen-
For we are all blind to it in our own way.
Longing is the sense of being.
The desire of touch,
The desperation of being close to that person.
The breath altering,
Mind shattering moment,
Where nothing matters but that presence.
The craving of solitude.
Trust is the heartfelt notion.
A communication on a love level.
To have and to hold,
Another half,
Or to present that other half,
With yours.
Trust is falling-
Accepting the possibilities of being caught.
Trust is giving the permission to shatter us.
Knowing that they will not do so,
Hoping they do not do so.
Fear is a consuming thought.
It is the darkness that surrounds you.
Your thoughts,
Your actions,
Your everyday movements.
It contracts you and holds you prisoner,
Gives you sense’s you never wished you could know.
It is the unknowing in the darkness,
It is the unknowing of what lurks within
Its demons and terror always follows us.
Within every shadow,
Within every blink,
It waits for our imagination to be vulnerable,
And sends us on a journey with our demons,
That drags us down and takes us within.
It is the sensation of chills-
Spine tingling horror of the moment.
It is always waiting,
Always watching.
It is an act of itself,
That wishes to perform its term.
