Muse 123: they told you not to be there

cat & mouse part II

We swam until Kevin disappeared. The bubbles lead us until we were standing in shallow water, so we decided to take a look around. In my head the warnings they had said replayed as if they were taunting me with an "I told you so." The lake was a place we were never supposed to be. They warned us about them, not to let them catch us, and now, "Look what happened to Kevin." We walked in circles, twitching in fear every time we heard a noise that sounded like the click of a safety switch or a thump against the trees. When the sky began to grow dark, we got scared and someone convinced all of us to go home. "It's going to be too dark soon."

"What about Kevin?" I asked sadly. The rest of them hesitated, then shrugged as if it wasn't their business.

Muse 50: Protection

found via we heart it

A part of me wanted you - closely, tightly, and ever so slightly warm. A chill ran down my arms as I felt the February wind blow across the earth, and I didn't need a second to spare. I wished for the spring to come earlier so a warmer breeze would brush down the hairs on my arms... for the skies to keep the sun's rays out a little longer... for the hour that would come to skip, not to skip at all... but most of all, through the ellipses and thoughts, I found myself wishing - not for spring - for you. So you could block the winter wind, become my summer sky and make time standstill.

Muse 13: Secret Garden

There is a place everyone wishes they could go to, somewhere secret and unknown, that has a path so they won't get lost. Alice has been there. Peter lives there. It is a land that we have only dreamed of seeing. Lost has myriad implications that will never mean that same thing once; like a fire that cannot be photographed identically. In a frenzy of definitions, I wonder: How can I feel good when I'm lost, on my own, knowing that the only route is a carved direction filled with simplicity. And yet how can I feel so bad when I'm lost, on my own, knowing that no one will ever find me again. The path feels so soft and earthly underneath my feet, where the dirt slowly eats away at my calloused soles to expose the gentle, baby skin. The wet morning dew kissing my sore, blistered red feet is the only thing that can hurt me. I think I will continue running, no matter what "lost" has in store for me.