Unwritten by Natasha Bedingfield

I am unwritten, can’t read my mind, I’m undefined
I’m just beginning, the pen’s in my hand, ending unplanned

Feel the rain on your skin
No one else can feel it for you
Only you can let it in
No one else, no one else
Can speak the words on your lips
Drench yourself in words unspoken
Live your life with arms wide open
Today is where your book begins
The rest is still unwritten

I break tradition, sometimes my tries, are outside the lines
We’ve been conditioned to not make mistakes, but I can’t live that way

 

PS. Happy Monday, you guys.

 

Rainy Mornings

Photo source: wallpapers-xs.blogspot.com

I used to find comfort in your silence just like when darkness shields me from the glare of reality. It can’t be blue skies every day. Sometimes the day is gray and the heavens cry but we both love the rain — the sound of it, the smell and how it brings childhood memories of pink dresses and ribbons and ice cream, and how you said that the sound of rain drops make for a good soundtrack.

I used to pray that the universe bring us together. Now I realize how selfish I was. I don’t see you often now but sometimes you show up in my dreams, some hazy visions of the past. You used to tell me that I don’t have to hide the pain behind my smile and that my eyes never lie. Well, then I’m just glad you can’t see me now. I am happy that you found happiness. I tell myself that every day until I feel like I can start believing my own lie.

And on rainy mornings, I stay in bed and look out the window and wonder if you still look up at the sky and ask why she’s crying.