NZ. Gryffindor. Aquarius. Coffee drinker. Book lover. Always sleepy.
Features / mentions
i'll cry you a constellation i’m only l(i/o)vely in the mornings
when the dawn catches my tears just right, and makes them shine
- little stars falling from my eyes
trnsncTo think of you as ornamental,
A flower cut and rinsed in the tub sink
Dressed in ribboned plastic
Sold by eager hands
To present —statue of decay
Frayed firework, muted memory
Of spring— a new and boundless
Slicing through the wet grass,
Blade spine finding little justice
In those calloused fingers, another
Winered symphony, wince and sing, you
Withered heart, your skin
Still drawing blood.
you turn my scarlet nightmares into dreams of happiness / your vermilion lips speak to me of comfort and peace / and the rose-coloured diamond around your wrist reminds me that you are happy / but you've painted your hip in blood red before / i won't let that happen again / you've made red and black a safe place / let me give you one too
your kindness is the tangerine of sunsets / and your smile is just as warm / there's an orange called safety orange and i think that it is you / and your heart seems to be made of gold / and your eyes made of coffee / and sometimes there's a slight colour of apricot across your face / i hope that means you're happy / even though sometimes you are consumed by flames
you're a little crazy / a bit like someone mixed mustard and vanilla but it somehow made amber / and i have many memories of playing spotto with you / you're bright like the sun / shining on us all with your aureolin gaze / and my memories of sweet lemons are connected to you
twenty-onei've stitched my mouth shut
but it's 2:17 am
and nobody will hear the pain
struggling its way from my mouth
and it's really quite pointless
when the stitches stop my fractured sobs
but don't silence my mind
and sleep won't come
when my mind is painted red
[they always said
that sadness was blue and grey
but to me it'll always be red]
the old black clock tick
and you play with my hair
sleep drifts around us like
the tree casts rainy shadows on the wall, and
i trace patterns in the ceiling with
my eyes, exploring shadows.
i want to ask you who played batman
in the version i liked, but
i think you're already asleep.
your fingers explore my face as though
you've never felt it before
you trace my collarbone
and kiss my shoulders
and tell me to have the
i whimper about
my day, and
you hold me together
the chipped white door creaks
and the cat curls up on my knees.
it's quiet on our street tonight
it's quiet in our room
i wonder briefly where you end
and i begin
but then sweat drips
and time stops
and someone whispers
i love you.
i think the neighbor's having a party
her dog's going crazy, and
you can't stop laughing.
lv.I don't see cosmic dust or a bleeding sunrise anymore.
I don't just hear birds chirping or rain pouring
I don't just go outside and not notice all the songs and scenery
because you haunted every inch of life there is
hands shoved in denim pockets
& eyes full of animation.
The sky isn't just blue and white anymore,
because there's a tinge of laughter in it, a shade of madness.
Because I fell in love with you,
I fell in love with the world too.
For seven or eight years now, I’ve been trying to take moments and hold them in my hands. Cupping my hands together and stroking them with my thumbs, like a dying bird. The flashing and burning to hold onto the feeling of that moment, that time. I pin the pictures I take on my wall and carefully arrange them. Curating my museum, that this haunted by lost moments told through mirrors.