#venx217

[mortallypurpleshark]

she was a year

She was July’s heat, scorched to the ground. She was August’s first monsoon; brutal, yes, but the soil would never be fertile without her. She was September’s uncertainty, when you’re not sure you want to keep going. She was October’s first chill and the warm tea cupped in your palms while leaves flare orange outside the window. She was November’s first snow, the thrill of sleds and snowmobile sugar She was the whole of December; reminiscence, regret, guilt, nostalgia, all at once.

She was everything; no calendar could fold her into months.

[mortallypurpleshark]

the vase on my nightside leaks

she realized that she was a bottomless pitcher. Nothing could fill her up, no amount of love, no amount of success and wordly pleasures could fill the void in her heart. She realized that she was always going to take and that made her incredibly sad.