but its a wednesday.

in one of those moods again. where i miss things. the type where i feel like standing up, walking away, and not looking back. the type where i spend my nights writing not-poetry, listening to silence. the type where i wake up with coffee and an uncomfortable feeling of not knowing whats next. the type where i ignore my phone, ignore my email, ignore social media, and any infiltrated language unnecessary to my own growth process. the type where i meditate, for hours on end about the importance of my existence.

in one of those moods again. where i miss things.

the days where inspiration drew the main focal point. hidden words and secret adjectives told endless stories of nostalgia. i miss the days where, sleep was not recognized. pillow talk consisted of a lovers scent even if only for that ephemeral moment. (actually, it was preferred in that context.) romantic words between two artists, both greedy for the next ah-ha moment. i miss the days, tears shed, contorted into pretty little pictures of hedonistic love affairs with canvas, not a care in the world aside from mutilating every inch of "yous". i miss the days "you" inspired "we" to turn our kitchen into an art studio, pretty lights and mint blue curtains enveloping the madness "we" clung to. i actually just miss that house, in general. the days of spoken minds sans fear of ego oriented consequence welcomed intrigue; opinionated mentality forming a home in anothers' ear, minus the down-ward spiral into unknown, unwelcomed places. i miss intelligent vocabulary cascading dinner tables, intuitive thought process.

in one of those moods again. where i miss things.