How can I stay
And watch myself lose you?
How can I walk and watch you run
All that I am
Was because of you
So damn stupid
All the time
For how long
Lord thank you for helping me breathe
If I held him one more time
I wouldn’t know me anymore
Lord why did this last?
Why did I last?
How come you didn’t give up
When I kept pouring another mans cup?
How did I get back to this
I was blind
But now I see
I see my rainbow ahead of me
Instead of his back,
I see the calm after the storm
How sweet the air is
How green the trees are
The magic put into me when all is done
How sweet is this music I hear
This fruit I eat
My skin I’m in
How the world turns
Turning a dead force into…
a live angel
A magic empress
In my own world
You are no longer here with me
In my own world
I am my hero
Not you or anyone before
He is within me
Unless the sky is falling
Don’t come knockin at my door
No, no, no
I see me
The only one who dreams within a dream
I see me
Not to coincide
With your lie
the sun has left us
shadows of the lost deepened
but when delighted with happiness
no torment will ever prevail.
the salvation of your vibrations
tender sweet song
play your instruments
and welcome eternity
a bit of magic
defines the shape of a star
beautiful dreams that never fade
I rest in silence
her face locked cold
creator of damaged shadows
pieces of a mirage
overcome this anger
glass lines in your mirror
you cannot isolate the sun
your chains remain cold pleasures
my illusion of you
my dreams become your regret
i have my freedom
it was never lost
as I will forget you
the image of her
the flash of her
its always the painted skin
his eyes are always deceived
he never learns i guess
it will always be
her without a heart
her who is wild
he who remains a child
chooses like one
they don’t love like me
but oh well
he never learns
loving painted lies
i never wore a mask
and fell for yours
as you fell for hers
— Read on myspirals.com/blog/soulmates/
A NEW FAVORITE by My Spirals
I had this concept of story telling – palm reading mix for a long time and here it is. I hope you like it!
I met a palm reader once
who convinced me to let him tell me my story.
His readings weren’t conventional –
he came up with stories of past lives
by reading the calligraphy on our hands.
Mukkadar used to be a storyteller but the people
needed some catch to sit for a story,
so he chose this unconventional palm-reading.
He looked at my hand and offered me tea
along with a few choices.
“We’re going to be here for a while,”
he said, “I’ve got plenty of stories for you,
what’s your first pick?”
I was confused, so I chose the love story.
We do that sometimes.
Choose love as the last resort.
“You see this stroke right here,
it’s called the heart-line. It’s the number you dial
for all your love stories. Here you go.
You called her Swans,
the girl you dated in your past life,
because you were each other’s for life.
You met here in high school, ninth grade, 1948.
She liked mountains and you liked beaches,
so you decided California would be home.
On your 22nd birthday, she gave you a 10-paged notebook titled All yours.
filled with lipstick kisses of different shades.
Swans grew up to become an art teacher,
you started fixing cars. But in bed, you drew the race tracks on her skin
and she drove her heart on your arms.
It was a happy story for the most part,
because Swans knew how to talk till things were okay.
The calamity was that you died when you were 60,
with Amnesia and two words on your lips
The tragedy was that she died in your arms.
Swans died in her home.
That was intense! Now, what’s next?”
Mukkadar left me speechless,
not just by his storytelling
but by the uncanny resemblance of Swans
to the girl who used her own broken heart pieces
to heal me last night.