Lullabies

by Lang Leav

“A mind possessed by unmade books.”

Lost Words by Michael Faudet,

Love & Misadventure

poems were a little like spells—incantations that are as old as time.

My Heart

Perhaps I never loved enough, If only I’d loved much more; I would not nearly had so much, left waiting, for you in store. If I had given away my heart— to those who came before; it would be safer left in parts— but now you have it all.

I have happened in so many places, to so many people—the essence of me lives on in these nuances, these moments.

never have I been bolder or brighter than I am with you.

Not once have I ever felt...

When When every dream has turned to dust, and your highest hopes no longer soar. When places you once yearned to see, grow further away on distant shores. When every night you close your eyes, and long inside for something more. Remember this and only this, if nothing else

you can recall— There was a life a girl once led, where you were loved the most of all.

Be careful about giving your heart too quickly,

He swept in like a tsunami, wave after wave, and I didn’t stand a chance.

When someone stirs a world of emotion in you and it’s so intense you can barely stand to be with him.

Passing Time I feel the end is drawing near, would time be so kind to slow? You are everything to me, my dear, you are all I really know. But as I sit and wait and fear and watch the hours go— Everything that happened here happened long ago.

there is only one love. If any person claims to have loved twice in all their life—they have not loved at all.

A Pilgrimage Always seeking, each moment fleeting; this is where my soul will rest. With you I’ve fulfilled, our destined meeting; my tired hand, against your chest. This is the heart, that keeps mine beating— these are the eyes that mine know best.

Perhaps it had something to do with how I looked at life. My lack of care. My indecision. I wanted everything because I didn’t want anything enough.

Then I met you and it changed me. For once in my life, there was something I wanted. So much.

For me, that was the de...

word, or; because now, there is no other. It was the end of the word, and...

What if certain people were signposts in your life? Representations of good or bad.

their presence in your life will always bring the promise of better days.

Mementos You were none, and now you’re all; your worth will rise, the more I fall. Like these mementos we have stored, once were things— now so much more.

Hearts don’t have locks, she said. Some do, he replies. There are people who give away the key to theirs for safekeeping. Others are mistrustful and give out several keys, just in case. Then there are those who have misplaced them

but never cared to look.

Never forget your words.

No one truly knows who they are, he sighs. The glass bottle does not know its own contents. It has no idea whether it is a vessel for the most delicious apple cider, a lovingly crafted wine, or a bitter poison. People are the same. Yet like the bottle, we are transparent. We can’t see ourselves the way others see us.

She was different from anything he had ever known. —THE PROFESSOR

She would fondly call him her Frankenstein, this man who was a patchwork of all the things she had ever longed for.

It was one of those nights that you are not altogether sure really did happen.

It was one of those nights that my mind still can’t be sure of. That wonders if I was ever there at all. Yet in my heart, it is as though I’ve never left.

They gave us years, though many ago; the spring cries tears— the winter, snow. —MELANCHOLY SKIES

Three Questions What was it like to love him? asked Gratitude. It was like being exhumed, I answered. And brought to life in a flash of brilliance. What was it like to be loved in return? asked Joy. It was like being seen after a perpetual darkness, I replied. To be heard after a lifetime of silence. What was it like to lose him? asked Sorrow. There was a long pause before I responded:

It was like hearing every good-bye ever said to me—said all at once.

Acceptance There are things

I miss that I shouldn’t, and those I don’t that I should. Sometimes we want what we couldn’t— sometimes we love who we could.

The thoughts we each keep, that are closest to heart, we think as we sleep

The greatest heartache comes from loving another soul, they said, beyond reason, beyond doubt, with no hope of salvation.

Time You were the one I wanted most to stay. But time could not be kept at bay. The more it goes, the more it’s gone— the more it takes away.

you cannot control the depth of a wound another inflicts upon you.

Concentric Circles Aging is a euphemism for dying, and the age of a tree can only be counted by its rings, once felled. Sometimes I feel there are so many rings inside me—and if anyone were to look, they would see I have lived and died many times over, each time shedding my leaves bare with the hope of renewal—the desire to be reborn. Like concentric circles that spill outwards across the water—I wish I could wear my rings on the surface and feel less ashamed of them. Or better yet, to be completely stripped and baptized—my lines vanishing like a newly pressed garment, a still pond.

Grounded The little birds who dream of flight; who gaze into the starry night. Their tired wings fold down and up; they try their best but it is not enough.

I often wonder why we want so much, to give others the very thing that we were denied.

It was then the line between fantasy and reality were so blurred that I no longer knew who I was.

The Most You may not know the reason why, for a time I wasn’t I. There was a man who came and went, on him every breath was spent. I’m sorry I forgot all else— it was the most I ever felt.

For inherently, mankind is compelled to record their greatest moments in history and you were mine.

One day you will be nostalgic for today.

Poker Face There was a time I would tell you, of all that ached inside; the things I held so sacred, to all the world I’d hide. But they became your weapons, and slowly I have learnt, the less that is said, the better— the lesser I’ll be hurt. Of all you’ve used against me, the worst has been my words. There are things I’ll never tell you, and it is sad to think it so; the more you come to know me— the less of me you’ll know.

Timing is irrelevant when two people are meant for each other.