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@jupiter-suggestion
to have loved and been loved, past tense, still matters. love isn't less real when it's impermanent.
to have loved and been loved, past tense, still matters. love isn't less real when it's impermanent.
to have loved and been loved, past tense, still matters. love isn't less real when it's impermanent.
there isnt much you can do without trust. without trust, how could we do anything? how could we tell jokes, laugh in open air, cry on shoulders, eat and sleep and ask? how could we even leave our beds without trusting the world and ourselves to be gentle enough to be worth it?
i want to be careless. i want to care less.
you are not the enemy. you are not hated. how arrogant are you, to think that you consume so much of their thoughts? you haven't done enough wrong. you are not bad enough.
if there is something in a touch, let it be an ember
let it be a whisper you strain to hear with each nerve ending
let it be a warmth you won't be parted from
or a chill you wish to thaw
if there is something in a touch, let it be tender
calm waters become raging waves become a wailing downpour become a whispering fog become calm waters again. settle, settle, let it move through you.
if i eat your heart, i will become it. is that not how it works? let me gently break your ribs so i can crawl inside your chest. i love you like a storm loves the ocean, like a fire loves a field. i want to live in you, off you, dying in your destruction.
if you find something holy in her eyes, be not afraid. if her words are hymns to your ears, if her smile is light in your eyes, find solace on your knees. we are worshipful by nature. with palms up and lips parted, revere her.
we are pounding our fists against the cage of our ribs, begging to be let out. we are struggling, stifled and constrained in the suffocating blanket of a culture that wishes we would be quiet, quiet, shhh. be good, now, don't make a fuss, said in the stern condescension of adults who think they know better. we are locked in our rooms at the tops of towers, crying silently, wanting to be free.
he has beautiful doe eyes and im like a ford f-150 going 80mph in the middle of the night
we are making and unmaking ourselves with each breath. our fingers score patterns in the clay of our flesh, shaping and reshaping each other with a touch.
the new devil's zodiac
Aries: your heart sputters and sparks like a failing engine. i know there is more to you than this. breathe deep, begin again.
Taurus: a home grows lungs and veins too. are you living well, little parasite? do you tend these halls and rooms in symbiosis or have you taken root like infection?
Gemini: does the bitterness please you? bite your tongue and taste iron in your smile. misery can be sweet under the right circumstances.
Cancer: what good are your wide eyes if you never aim them star-wards? what good are your lungs if you never feel them kissed by sweet night air?
Leo: fire's laughter is the sound your heart makes. bare your neck and teeth in the same motion; invite the danger closer. you are the danger.
Virgo: breathe out, let your lungs melt and heart puddle like mercury. the streetlights go out one by one but you hold a candle to keep the dark at bay; your fingers flutter near the flame, moth-like.
Libra: you are a quivering leaf clinging to the branch, battered by winds that wish to sweep you away. too afraid of the fall to realize that the ground will hold you just as gently.
Scorpio: hissing silver flames betwixt sour tongues; hold your breath and be still. are you really the one in control?
Sagittarius: there is an air purifier installed in your chest. wherever you breathe, smog returns to oxygen. if they are choking, it is because purity is unfamiliar to them.
Capricorn: lessons pried from life like opening a clam. clamshell hearts made of iron and fear. bleeding fingers, nails bent and laughing. find the shape of the lesson and pry.
Aquarius: the wind is soft and gentle to welcome you home. love is closer than you think. no, even closer than that.
Pisces: the petals fall between your fingers, kissed by stardust. this is how you mark the time you keep, by beauty wilting in your hands.
you always want what isn't yours. don't you know that's a sin? don't you know that anything less than bowing your head, accepting what you are given, starving silently, is wrong? do not ask for things that aren't yours or they will scream.
to have loved and been loved, past tense, still matters. love isn't less real when it's impermanent.