honeydew

words in the sun

[honeyedreveries]

oh, hey.

it's been hundreds of years

[honeyedreveries]

i haven't read in a long time. i haven't written in hope with the light beaming in my chest. it's sad how far i'd been swept away from words by the waves of the grief that had engulfed me in its ebbs and flows this past one year.

[honeyedreveries]

[honeyedreveries]

thinking about how i'm always there but you've never been (allowed to be) here. it's almost poetic the way this place is impenetrable, doors shut at 22:00 sharp so as to assure me that i'm safe, and yet, everything in here is broken.

[honeyedreveries]

nothing is broken nothing is gone i've picked up the whole world and put it inside my chest now i'm whole again i'm whole

[honeyedreveries]

again, it's not love. hasn't been and won't be. it's just loneliness tearing apart my old mother wounds.

[honeyedreveries]

[honeyedreveries]

only so much time.

[honeyedreveries]

sweet september. 🖤

[honeyedreveries]

september, please be gentle with me.

[honeyedreveries]

there is something quite alluringly profound in sewing little words together to bring about the otherwise inexplicable mysteries and depths of the human soul to life.

[honeyedreveries]

maybe what i need rn is to just sit by and watch an artist whilst he paints and i daydream about faraway things and do nothing else

[honeyedreveries]

to the year that refused to let me move ahead. i promise you nobody has loved me like you do. you held on to me like a lover afraid of being left behind. you wanted me to yourself. you knew for some reason i would understand how you feel. you knew you could not hold me forever, but you just needed time to say goodbye.

[honeyedreveries]

i can never envision my future house without a garden. not a balcony garden, but wide spaces of green all around my house surrounded safely by red brick walls and a big beautiful green gate. the walls will be covered in ivy and grape vines and i will grow loads of citrus trees and persimmons and cedar. fill every inch of land with seasonal vegetables and fruits and herbs to sustain myself all the year round. to have chickens that give me eggs and three doggies that run around while i tend to my garden, and a little grey cat that yawns and stretches in the sun under my guava tree as i read Baudelaire in my backyard. i want a home that will keep my delicate soul soothed no matter what adversity or heartbreak i face in life. i want a garden that keeps me company no matter how old i grow and how lonely it gets as i go through life alone.

[honeyedreveries]

the secret history, donna tartt

[honeyedreveries]

i am, i am, i am

sylvia plath , the bell jar

[honeyedreveries]

sylvia plath, the bell jar