Writeia

I met her today. She is more than anything, and I think I have imposter syndrome. What if being with me actually hurts her? I try to understand the things she says—I try my best—but who could tell her what I’m going through? I speak a lot; everyone knows that. But what is it that I say? I cannot tell. She’s been in my life for a month now. It feels as if I want to know her forever. So many facets, so many stories—who could imagine? Not me. Part of me wishes I could bring her here with me now, but all I can do is write. And this is our story. I got to know her a month ago. It wasn’t much, but her name got me thinking. That’s how it started. I searched for her on Facebook, and if you’ve used Facebook, you know—no one’s ever alone. I found her and sent her a request. She accepted it. Then began what is now being written. Our first meeting—a secret. Well, it was one until I decided to write about it. We had some coffee. By the end of it, I knew she was the one. I found every reason to meet...

Blurry but beloved memory of Yours; now and always. by Aetherek Of the blurry memory, I have much to remember. When my wild urges became yours in a moment, Just to stay that way forever. Mine was the night or so I thought to be But as I were, it was already in you to foresee, to keep them before they pass. Of the blurry memory, with you that was sweetest. My spirit giving in together with no agenda to protest, It is the memory I aim to protect. To think that it will be again, A blurry memory no more, To worship you and yours, To submit in all that one can pour.