#writtenconsiderations

[beforeyearning]

[soulreserve]

Driftwood

You are clear wind, playing into the shadows. From the open into the rushes. Here evenings feed you on moon's gentle light. Here daytime sun shimmers upon your body, a golden token. You shouldn't be here in this world, but I have tugged and brought you with me. Opened you up into old wounds that ooze Marri's red kino. Into thick tufts of banksia flowers that blossom painted wood-like petals into organised architecture of immense perfection.

How upon your journey beyond death, from redwood to here, you've lost familiarity. You've become a figment that grows roots deep like eucalyptus. And flakes bark after bark into sheeted paperbark lacework. And stands bent at the knees in sweet lake water lapping at language, speaking to me in tongues.

I have learnt with you how love loses shape after loss, becomes air, becomes an image that haunts in tender vivid ways.

You, driftwood grief, and I, slowly drifting towards you. © SoulReserve 2026

[n-ehpamoi]

If we messaged one another

every time the other crossed our mind, I wonder,

what that would look like?

Would it be a nice and even ebb and flow?

Or would your thoughts come only in a slow trickle, egging on the raging currents of mine?

Would my thoughts be a tidal wave of all the little things and all the big things and all the good and the worry and the affection?

Would I be

reading about my eyes and my lips and my touch and my embrace, as often as you'd be reading about yours?

How well would our oceans of thought, mix, I wonder?

Would you only text when you chanced to see me?

Or like me, would it be with, or without you, near?

Would the currents combine to carve out land, anew?

Or would I drown you out?

"Questions I shouldn't ask" V. Rue, 2025.

[dg-fragments]

It's that time of the year again, nights take over, proliferating darkness, sunlight, a mere rarity, you are left craving, meanwhile engulfed within yourself, the mess, doesn't recede, pinching you in the gut, only way is down, in spite of all your efforts, unaccounted for, regardless.

- DG

[elegiesuponyourgravestone]

did i tell you that you are the absence of chaos?

not the calm that comes after the storm, but the silence that makes the storm forget it ever existed. when you are near, even my ruin pauses to listen. every thought that once screamed inside me softens into something almost gentle.

you are not rescue. you are not salvation. you are the quiet between my disasters.. the proof that peace can exist, even if it is borrowed, even if it flickers.

and yet, that is what makes it terrifying. to know that my body, so used to trembling, now flinches at the stillness. that i have grown to crave the ache of calm, knowing it might vanish the moment i name it.

still, i would say it again. you are the absence of chaos, and somehow, that feels like love.

at least, it felt like it was. at least, it felt like you were.

— jv orongan [elegies upon your gravestone]

[pocketfullofpoesies]

.

there are

an unlimited number

of things you can connect

with someone over...

there's no excuse

for disconnection

and distance

.

~ @pocketfullofpoesies

[ginadope]

funnyhoney

Each forged morning Life kept dying; Emptiness perverts the beauty of chance 

Real only to body and language, I was only ever gentle  With one of them

Destroy to create — The first and the last reason; I hope for no more, I fear there will be no more

[wordsandmorewords]

love (coffee)

my morning coffee, when we're apart, I make it on my own.

my morning coffee, when she's near, tastes of her love.

neither of us wants me to make it on my own.