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(Source: major)
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standing in the kitchen, kiss goodbye
kettle ringing, it’s half past 5.
you left the house long before
my feet had reached the front door.
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“Don’t tell them too much about your soul. They’re waiting for just that.”
— Jack Kerouac
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*looks up at night sky*
*sees more stars than usual*
*mood immediately lifts by 93%*
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Gut vs instinct vs anxiety.
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I still hear you.
Through the wind, heavy humid breeze, and the tender morning chill.
In the light, dancing on the tops of trees down to the flicking shadows on the walls.
Blurred in the colours, vibrant pastels spread across an open canvas.
Between the silence of the day amongst the muddled sounds.


