And Look For The Stars As The Sun Goes Down

The sky is a masterpiece, the grey clouds overlapping a backdrop of yellow clouds masking the setting sun. The yellow isn't solid, it carries more of a hue she would call heaven. It is a mellow baby yellow, but the setting sun softly shines through in the background to make a brilliant gold shade. The shining gold and baby yellow weave through each other like silk ribbon. She sits in the backyard, looking up at the yellow. She envisions herself taking a utility knife and ripping the clouds down the middle just like a canvas. She crawls through the slit and crosses over into whatever world was beyond this one. It didn't matter where the beyond is, she is positive it trumps the drab world in which she resides. She is overcome with the nostalgia she had become addicted to. Home is what she longs for. simply being at home puts her worries aside; it was blissful perfection. She closes her eyes and dreams of better days.

Overcast, These Gloomy Nights Wear On.

You close your eyes and the image replays for the 39th time since 1am. The image of your hand intertwined in his. Outside is the unfamiliar backyard which they call home but means nothing to you. You toss and turn in a strange hotel room while I try not to think about you, but hey, it never would have worked out anyway. You sharply inhale the scent of Pink Chiffon, reminiscent of freshman year when you were ignorant to the lurking depths of the world. Who knew that nostalgia could be an addiction? It literally takes over your life. Living in the moment is alien, harsh, yet invigorating all at the same time.