Consciousness bloom in your thoughts, they are rooted in your warmth


Hyderabad: 24 November 2021: you know that thing between being asleep and being awake— where the consciousness lies within no human mind can fathom; that thing between unintended eye contacts— the halo of inquests surrounding their existence yet you're hesitant to leap so you remain enthralled and tantalized; you know that thing when some parts of the world turned blue like hydrangea petals— when the silence of the dusk tells a story using a language no one has spoken of and that... that exact thing about falling flightless right into your soft deep december eyes; that exact same thing about how you don't spit metaphors because you swallowed them whole it grow under your skin, inside your chest. They bloom in your thoughts, they rooted in your warmth. you are the exact same thing the Delphic priestess has told me about— a boy made of sunken yellows and twilight smiles, a boy who has soft eyes that can tell so many uncharted tales.
and if you tell me to run by now, i'd meet you there in warped space and twisted timelines.

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