I walk there. It does not matter. I walk away, a scene follows. Temporary but permanent, a fleeting moment can turn solid. Horror insures. I can be lost at whim, but only I can choose to be found. The decision lays with me, but I tremble under the weight.
I’ve thought about this quite often when creating different works of literature, and I believe it is extremely important. However, this point should not only remain focused towards creating literature but for any work of art. When considering the creation of the piece and its various complexities included inside, it is extremely pivotal to ask yourself;
Our love, a touch of colossal entities,
Lips locked in endless heat, forsaking breath for another kiss
Dark nights surrounded by lights within, blasting songs that you’d sing to me
A smile on my face watching you, always