Smooth words are spoken out of the heartbeat. A thunderous beat. They cause the origin of the earth to delicately be shifted from past to present.
I yearn to live the past in the present and make different choices.
When the day rest, the morning becomes night. The night becomes morning, and the day in which we exist becomes that much more special. Suddenly a much-desired dream becomes a nightmare.
But to experience even a brief moment of the past prevents it from reality.
What keeps the soul satisfied is the hope of the clouds clearing and allowing the sun to shine through--unapologetically confidently and sassy.
Your words massage my ego, but the sound of your voice incites my very soul.
To be called King is a hell of a feeling. But to call you Queen fills a void of the linear past.
You are my Queen, and I your King--past and present!