#krhelton

[nymph-tales]

Threads of Light

Pink is the blush of dawn, soft and gentle as a whispered dream, a fleeting touch of warmth before the day unfolds.

Yellow dances in the midday light, bold and bright as laughter in the wind, a golden thread woven through the turning hours.

Purple lingers in the twilight, deep and endless as a quiet sigh, a bridge between the fading sun and the hush of night.

-K.R. Helton

Colors :)

Colors :)

[nymph-tales]

Unspoken Intentions

TW: Domestic abuse

It sinks in—

the weight of not knowing.

A hand reaches, fingers outstretched,

but for what?

Will it linger, soft as dusk,

tracing warmth against your skin?

Or will it harden, curl into a fist,

turning silence into something sharp?

Will it cradle,

or will it break?

Is it meant for you,

or the wall behind you?

And if it hesitates—

if it wavers in the space between—

do you lean in,

or do you pull away?

Do you brace for softness

or brace for impact?

And which would hurt more?

-K.R. Helton

[nymph-tales]

I Met Myself for Coffee (trend)

I met my younger self for coffee this morning. I was 10 minutes early. She was right on time, but I knew she had waited anxiously in the car, watching me walk in.

She had midriff-length ombré hair, flowing in the breeze. Mine is shoulder-length, bleached all over, and halfway put up. She wore a full face of foundation and cat eyeliner. I only wore my trusty mascara.

Neither of us ordered an actual coffee—we always hated the stuff. So I had a hot tea with honey, and she ordered something pink and fruity.

She wore a hoodie with skinny jeans and Converse; I had on a band tee with leggings and Vans. She told me it was nice to know my style was still the same so she didn’t need to worry about the cost. It made me laugh. I told her not everything has to change.

She told me about Alyson Noël and John Green. I told her about Sarah J. Maas and Rupi Kaur. She fawned over Percy and Four. I raved about Rhysand and Xaden. She teared up with me over Hazel Grace and Augustus. I poured out my heart to her about Aelin and Rowan.

I noticed that as we sipped, she seemed sad. There was a lost look in her eyes. She was so unsure of the road ahead. I grabbed her hands and told her that we meet a man better than the last. She begged and pleaded for his name, but I couldn’t give in—she needed to find him on her own.

After a while, she quietly admitted, “I didn’t know if you’d be here to talk to…” I told her I knew what she meant but was glad I was here anyway. I advised her that the path ahead, though filled with death and grief, was still brighter on the other side. It is filled with love, brought by the man who fixed that broken heart of hers.

As she walked out and I watched her leave, I thought, I hope we can meet up again. Until I noticed she had faded into my own reflection.

-K.R. Helton