#seren.doc

[witchoflight]

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loneliness is not the feeling i wish to have at the ending of the world as i watch dust choke the fragile sky and we pay our dues to the earth i wish to have a hand to hold i wish for the last words on my lips to be those of sweetness and i will whisper into your ear as a seashell so that when we are found intertwined at the dawn of something new the scientists might press their cheek against yours and hear: “i love you, my darling until the end, always you"

[witchoflight]

pale as bones

sun bleached sand

the ocean washes away grains of memory

and leaves behind bones

salt crusted, strange and twisted ivory

shimmering under the midday heat

life carved into new shapes

the sea sparkles like diamonds

scattered across the foam

and all we are is bones and thought

i squeeze your hand, fingers interlaced

and kiss your cheek

a promise.

[witchoflight]

junior year

there’s a ticking that i hear like the ticking of a clock almost like the clicking sound of a key inside a lock

and it tells me that i’m late on a thousand different things that i’m running out of time that i’m clipping my own wings

this clock is fast, this clock is cruel if i don’t pass, i’ll fail my school teach tests in class, yeah, that’s the rule droning en masse, we’ve all been fooled

why must our system be so strict? i ask, i plead, i beg, i cry my creativity’s derelict and all the spark’s gone from my eye

and the ticking, yes the ticking,  no the ticking never stops and the rules to which i’m sticking cause my mood to sharply drop

so please, dear reader, think about the problem that we face for if we purge imagination we’ll kill the human race.

[witchoflight]

past lives

souls are like paper, my love the stories of our lives written in soft graphite pencil twirls creating plot twists those moments when you suddenly feel directionless and like there is nothing ahead, the author has gone to sharpen their pencil and when our story has finished, and the final period is dotted the author scrubs our stories away, eraser in hand, and begins anew but erasers are never perfect and the curves and lines of our lives before shape our new story deja vu is simply when the words of past and present align

souls are like magnets, my love it does not matter which way you turn them they will always right themselves and find each other so do not fear if we are ever separated if the universe sends us spinning like planets around different stars we will come together our hands clasping with the certainty of one thousand lives

souls are many things, my love stories and magnets and light but this is certain: my soul will always be yours to hold through every life we live and even beyond that

[witchoflight]

last breaths

if you stay absolutely still, you might hear it the litany of last breaths i imagine them as silver wisps swirling out of already-stiffening lungs hoarfrost that clings to the lips and eyes of their loved ones marking them as “ones who have lost” (it will melt, eventually, but not now. now it is icy and fresh and still stings. most people mistake it for tears)

they will lick their lips and blink and they will see flashes of someone who used to occupy a space in this world a living, breathing, moving, laughing space and they will taste and watch the stories that someone left behind (for what are we but the stories we leave behind?)

but these stories do not end with the condensing of frost they end with kisses, love sealed with memories and they end with tears, of joy and of sadness, tales dripping down cheeks and staining silk and most importantly with peace

[witchoflight]

slivers

there is a shattered mirror on the rooftop and its pieces reflect fractal sunsets  turning into stained glass for the brief moments that the sky is ablaze we are careful to step around it so as not to let beauty make us bleed but i pick up two slivers and i slide them together two pieces of something much bigger, but self contained as “yes, these two belong together”

i hold them up to you you, beautiful you, silhouetted in colors to which names dont do justice and you are sweeter than honey when you press your lips to mine and i am always talking about the meanings of the colors of roses but red, red is the only one that does you justice red like the sky, red like the mirror, red like your lips red like the blood on my fingertips red is love and love is us on a rooftop fingertips bleeding kissing like the world is ending while, uncaring, the sun sets

[witchoflight]

wishful thinking

i would like to live in this moment i am young (i cannot reach the counter without help) it is the fine border between evening and night and the couch has molded to my shape and the blanket settles on me like dust my eyes, without me realizing, have closed and it is not that they won’t open, so much as they seem to have forgotten how i snuggle deeper, curling inward a semicolon to sleep

i hear the fire crackling, and my brother’s voice floats from the kitchen the white noise of a family, content and i am so very sleepy it is almost as if i can see into my future dreams ripple the veil between sleep and waking but my mom walks in, her slippers rasping against the hardwood i can tell the exact moment she sees me because her footsteps soften and i feel her scoop me into her arms and lightly kiss my forehead i dont open my eyes, not wanting to lose this moment instead i inhale she smells like chocolate and flour, like sweat and soap and she smells of our home the moment becomes hazy now, and my mother’s measured breaths begin to soften as she carries me up the stairs to dream

[witchoflight]

37 + 48

37. coming out fic + 48. fake dating

oh shit this is a really interesting combination......i think i would combine these by having character A wanting to come out to their family, but feeling like it will be hard for them to accept/conceive of. therefore, they go to their friend, character B, and ask if B will pretend to be their datemate so that they dont have to OFFICIALLY come out to their family, they can just show up with B and introduce them as their datemate. naturally, B has had a secret crush on A for years.

it’d take place over the course of one night, with the dual threads of the family coming to terms with A’s sexuality and A + B having to keep up the charade of being a couple

it obviously ends with B confessing their attraction to A, A admitting that they feel the same way, and them sharing a kiss; which the family then walks in on and sees how happy their kid is