seen from Germany
seen from Finland
seen from France
seen from Russia
seen from United States
seen from France
seen from Germany
seen from Germany
seen from Malaysia
seen from Russia
seen from France
seen from Russia
seen from Malaysia
seen from China
seen from Russia
seen from Germany
seen from Canada
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seen from United States
seen from Germany
Landscapes iii [a series] // Sunnie Lyca
things i found when trying to forget you
here is a list. i will return all these items, but some of them may not be in the same condition as when you left them. i am willing to provide compensation for any damage or loss.
i. a brown envelope, unsealed and containing nothing. on it is written nothing. (i remember you gave it to me and told me i could send you anything, whenever.)
ii. a single petal fallen from a violet. it was found between the pages of my dictionary, under ‘L’ for ‘loss.’ (or maybe it was under ‘L’ for ‘love.’)
iii. your smell. tuberose, and something lighter. it reminds me of spring, and that summer we spent trying to hold on to all the flowers before they faded. (in fact, i think that’s where the violets came from. we put all of them in baskets, and some in vases, you put some in my hair. i told you it was useless: we could never put them everywhere.)
iv. your smile. i cut open a blood orange yesterday, and every slice looked like it. (it even dripped red, just like yours. i always told you you looked like a girl who springtime fell in love with, and she loved you and burned you until you emerged full of light.)
v. a note stuck on the wall. it tells me to return the library books. (the funny thing is, the moment i met you, i forgot everything about borrowing. i just wanted to have.)
i’m sorry i kept these things. i’ve sealed the box and mailed it, it should arrive next tuesday. (i hope they don’t get lost.)
june when you reach over and your palms are empty but for moondust and it is a bit darker here than it was before; what's left of spring drinks the air
a beginner's guide to becoming immortal (or maybe not just for beginners. you could have started trying long ago; at whatever stage you're at— this guide is for you) i. you do not have to be a god to be timeless (you can feel like forever. you can erase the days from your bones, and ease the skin off your joints. you can take a bath in the milky way, and feel the cosmos seep into you like the roots of a flower drinking in rain.) ii. who ever said that you weren't otherwordly? (you are. you shouldn't check, but your blood has ichor in it. it glimmers, it flows. you did not come from this world, you were something that blew in from a hurricane, or a light breeze, or a slight whisper of wind. and you're not going to leave.) iii. gods don't just draw breaths (they paint them. breathing in and breathing out, each lungful like a wave of serenity, a crashing beam of light. it cleans their mind, slows their hearts. you could too.) iv. have you ever heard a lighting bolt? or a roll of thunder? have you ever heard the trees rustle? (they seem to bloom; they laugh. when the immortals laugh they crack open skies, laughter that fills them with light. they bring back spring, they shake the earth, they burst. one day you will learn to laugh that way.) v. you are more (you are more than this mess of a heart. you are more than ink on a piece of A4 sized paper. you are more than a blur in a photograph. you exist and you are more: you are not enough but one day you will be. one day you will open your eyes and feel the universe between your lashes. one day you will run and feel the air shimmer around you. one day you will untangle yourself string by string, bit by bit, until you are whole again.)
aeterna | o.l
Landscapes ii [a series] // Sunnie Lyca
two lovers watching a sunset, entirely alone (together)
how beautiful the clouds are today, look, to think that they were made just for us (for just us), look, how the pink sinks into the purple, look, look at that klimt-gold, resting against the fading sun. to think that this is all for you and me. how
incredibly young we are, how beautiful, how in love we are. to think that we invented this feeling, to think that we are the first to have ever loved like this.
how strange that i am the first to have ever grasped a hand like a lifeboat, your face like a bible. love, how gentle your hands, how beautiful the sinking sun is as she strokes them, how beautiful ours are together.
two hail marys and a broken lovers’ creed
you used to tell me that you liked the sound of my voice, and now you just don’t hear it.
your skin was the closest i ever got to soft, your touch, the closest i ever got to absolution. the priest told me,
child, your penance is complete
but i just can’t stop praying. you were something holy in my hands, and now i just don’t hold you.
a series of aches and spaces
a week ago all you wanted was me
in your bed, my tongue in your mouth, my love, my breath on your neck.
now you want time,
space
anything but me in your bed, your mouth, your neck.
a week ago though, i hadn’t slit you throat to groin,
left hand to right hand,
the june before last to saturday night.
