u/SmaugTheDreadful

Do you think of me now and then? Do you wonder about what I'm doing, how I'm doing? Do I wander through your dreams? Does looking at the full moon give you goosebumps knowing I'm gazing upon it at the same time? Do you still visit the graveyard to ask if I'm okay? Does the river still dance when he hears my name? Then I just smile and remind myself not to get lost in wandering through wonder.

But if you do, then maybe, one day, when we close our eyes and each whisper, meet me at our spot; when we open them, this time we'd see the other right in front of us. As if waking up from one long night terror with a sense of relief and comfort that it was all a dream. You'd drift off again into peace and I'd put on my favourite socks from your pile of laundry, sneaking out to make sure you woke up to iced, black and bitter beside your head. To see that gentle smirk from the corner of my eye as you clutched it close and took your first sip, and hear you whisper to yourself, "I fucking love this man", one more time as you thought I was out cold back in bed; lost wandering through wonder. Oh how that would heal a war waging inside this broken, bruised, tired, homesick and wandering lost soldiers mind.

They say home is where the heart is; so are you homeless or heartless? I yearn to go back home, because here in this earthly realm is definitely not where I belong. I'm just visiting here; and happened to get lost where the pieces of your heart is.. home is where the heart is; and home feels like you. Even if callous and heartless; homeless I'm not because home is where your heart is, and mine is where yours lived. Nothing feels more like home than getting lost putting back together the pieces of where mine hid.The irony in feeling at home when lost wandering through wonder of where my home is.

But still I wonder as I wander. As long as I don't get lost in wandering through my own paradox of truth and delusion, a sea of contradiction masked as my mind which loves and thrives being lost in the woods of wonder. I chuckle at the thought that on the other side of anothers poetic pain, written in ink of tears, that in that moment it isn't just another lost soul, a stranger in the wind; releasing their words they wish they said, to burn in the fires of the wild. But rather finding warmth in being lost in the cold and wandering through wonder for just a few moments that it not be only in a dream it was familiar pair of my favourite socks on that side, bleeding out as well with words which too, long replayed in their head; and they too in that moment were wandering through wonder of what once was, and now question if ever was or merely the wild story created in our own imagination, mind of wonder and if I ever do the same.

It's a freezing warmth to believe one day, you and I will meet again, and we will meet at our spot and not in our dreams. Finding each other and save two soul ties from ever getting lost wandering through wonder again. But I know I will remain lost wondering if you too get lost while wandering through wonder. To get lost with you once more is when I'd hope to never be found again.

Do you think of me now and then? Do you wonder about what I'm doing, how I'm doing? Do I wander through your dreams? Does looking at the full moon give you goosebumps knowing I'm gazing upon it at the same time? Do you still visit the graveyard to ask if I'm okay? Does the river still dance when he hears my name? Then I just smile and remind myself not to get lost in wandering through wonder.

But if you do, then maybe, one day, when we close our eyes and each whisper, meet me at our spot; when we open them, this time we'd see the other right in front of us. As if waking up from one long night terror with a sense of relief and comfort that it was all a dream. You'd drift off again into peace and I'd put on my favourite socks from your pile of laundry, sneaking out to make sure you woke up to iced, black and bitter beside your head. To see that gentle smirk from the corner of my eye as you clutched it close and took your first sip, and hear you whisper to yourself, "I fucking love this man", one more time as you thought I was out cold back in bed; lost wandering through wonder. Oh how that would heal a war waging inside this broken, bruised, tired, homesick and wandering lost soldiers mind.

They say home is where the heart is; so are you homeless or heartless? I yearn to go back home, because here in this earthly realm is definitely not where I belong. I'm just visiting here; and happened to get lost where the pieces of your heart is.. home is where the heart is; and home feels like you. Even if callous and heartless; homeless I'm not because home is where your heart is, and mine is where yours lived. Nothing feels more like home than getting lost putting back together the pieces of where mine hid.The irony in feeling at home when lost wandering through wonder of where my home is.

But still I wonder as I wander. As long as I don't get lost in wandering through my own paradox of truth and delusion, a sea of contradiction masked as my mind which loves and thrives being lost in the woods of wonder. I chuckle at the thought that on the other side of anothers poetic pain, written in ink of tears, that in that moment it isn't just another lost soul, a stranger in the wind; releasing their words they wish they said, to burn in the fires of the wild. But rather finding warmth in being lost in the cold and wandering through wonder for just a few moments that it not be only in a dream it was familiar pair of my favourite socks on that side, bleeding out as well with words which too, long replayed in their head; and they too in that moment were wandering through wonder of what once was, and now question if ever was or merely the wild story created in our own imagination, mind of wonder and if I ever do the same.

It's a freezing warmth to believe one day, you and I will meet again, and we will meet at our spot and not in our dreams. Finding each other and save two soul ties from ever getting lost wandering through wonder again. But I know I will remain lost wondering if you too get lost while wandering through wonder. To get lost with you once more is when I'd hope to never be found again.

Do you think of me now and then? Do you wonder about what I'm doing, how I'm doing? Do I wander through your dreams? Does looking at the full moon give you goosebumps knowing I'm gazing upon it at the same time? Do you still visit the graveyard to ask if I'm okay? Does the river still dance when he hears my name? Then I just smile and remind myself not to get lost in wandering through wonder.

But if you do, then maybe, one day, when we close our eyes and each whisper, meet me at our spot; when we open them, this time we'd see the other right in front of us. As if waking up from one long night terror with a sense of relief and comfort that it was all a dream. You'd drift off again into peace and I'd put on my favourite socks from your pile of laundry, sneaking out to make sure you woke up to iced, black and bitter beside your head. To see that gentle smirk from the corner of my eye as you clutched it close and took your first sip, and hear you whisper to yourself, "I fucking love this man", one more time as you thought I was out cold back in bed; lost wandering through wonder. Oh how that would heal a war waging inside this broken, bruised, tired, homesick and wandering lost soldiers mind.

They say home is where the heart is; so are you homeless or heartless? I yearn to go back home, because here in this earthly realm is definitely not where I belong. I'm just visiting here; and happened to get lost where the pieces of your heart is.. home is where the heart is; and home feels like you. Even if callous and heartless; homeless I'm not because home is where your heart is, and mine is where yours lived. Nothing feels more like home than getting lost putting back together the pieces of where mine hid.The irony in feeling at home when lost wandering through wonder of where my home is.

But still I wonder as I wander. As long as I don't get lost in wandering through my own paradox of truth and delusion, a sea of contradiction masked as my mind which loves and thrives being lost in the woods of wonder. I chuckle at the thought that on the other side of anothers poetic pain, written in ink of tears, that in that moment it isn't just another lost soul, a stranger in the wind; releasing their words they wish they said, to burn in the fires of the wild. But rather finding warmth in being lost in the cold and wandering through wonder for just a few moments that it not be only in a dream it was familiar pair of my favourite socks on that side, bleeding out as well with words which too, long replayed in their head; and they too in that moment were wandering through wonder of what once was, and now question if ever was or merely the wild story created in our own imagination, mind of wonder and if I ever do the same.

It's a freezing warmth to believe one day, you and I will meet again, and we will meet at our spot and not in our dreams. Finding each other and save two soul ties from ever getting lost wandering through wonder again. But I know I will remain lost wondering if you too get lost while wandering through wonder. To get lost with you once more is when I'd hope to never be found again.

Sometimes I think to myself, do you think of me now and then? Do you wonder about what I'm doing, how I'm doing? Do I wander through your dreams? Does looking at the full moon give you goosebumps knowing I'm gazing upon it at the same time? Do you still visit the graveyard to ask if I'm okay? Does the river still dance when he hears my name? Then I just smile and remind myself not to get lost in wandering through wonder.

But if you do, then maybe, one day, when we close our eyes and each whisper, meet me at our spot; when we open them, this time we'd see the other right in front of us. As if waking up from one long night terror with a sense of relief and comfort that it was all a dream. You'd drift off again into peace and I'd put on my favourite socks from your pile of laundry, sneaking out to make sure you woke up to iced black and bitter beside her head. To see that gentle smirk from the corner of my eye as you clutched it close and took your first sip, and hear you whisper to yourself, "I fucking love this man", one more time as you thought I was out cold back in bed; lost in wander of wonder. Oh how that would heal a war waging inside this broken, bruised, tired, homesick and wandering lost soldiers mind.

But still I wonder as I wander. As long as I don't get lost in wandering through my own paradox and sea of contradicting mind which loves and to get lost in the woods. I chuckle at the thought that on the other side of anothers poetic pain written in ink of tears, that in that moment it isn't just a lost soul, a stranger in the wind releasing their words they wish they said, to burn in the fires of the wild. But finding warmth in being lost in wandering for a few moments that only in a dream it was familiar pair of his favourite socks and they at the same time were wondering about him.

It's a freezing warmth to believe one day, her and I will meet again, and we will meet at our spot and not in our dreams. Deciding to find the other and save two soul ties from ever getting lost wondering through wander again.