Writing

my heart so beating

soft in my chest where there is

waiting a place 

unfinished

here in the forest, there is a-waiting
a little bird, quiet and sweet
she does not quite understand
how they could have born her

these foreign beasts

once in the darkness
where i was thinking
i saw a light
oh deep in my soul
i did not question
where it had came from
i simply sat
in its embrace

winter wages her war outside
angrily beating her ice-hands on my doors
thrashing branches she sends through the air, 
a flurry of soft snow not far behind
she screams her wind-scream, rage filling the storm.

I love the sound of 

your voice,

your laugh,

And when we can giggle over nothing.

I love it when we sleep over, 

acting like dorks past 2 am.

I know that words are so hollow

I feel hollow words

Everyone's words

Are hollow

To me

I think that I am sorry

I ruined something