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Welcome to your impending doom...

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Enjoy the perpetual dependency and attachment but don't forget to write bad love poems & to sell your soul to the other because God knows you love them so much, you'd be willing to do just about anything, like spending an hour writing a long ass poem that makes absolutely no sense about them!

swipe to read a poem >>>

Enjoy the perpetual dependency and attachment but don't forget to write bad love poems and to sell your soul to the other because God knows you love them so much, you'd be willing to do just about anything, like spending an hour writing a long ass poem that makes absolutely no sense about them.

swipe to read a poem >>>

Final destination: wary hazelnut eyes

I'll burn your name behind my eyelids just to rekindle your flaming spirit and pray to God that it ignites my soul before I ever forget the colour of your eyes, the ones I fashioned out of the clouds and carved out of the rivers, the ones I tasted happiness out of and saw God in, the ones that became my everything, and the ones that will always mean something.

Third stop: white merry lies

We'll dilute each other's bloodstream to drown out any sadness that may still live in the spaces between the other's ribs and pray to God that it doesn't kill them or wash up any remnants of who they could've been if their lungs were given the chance to burn.

Second stop: lovely cherry pies

We'll take bites out of the clouds to taste the happiness we built for each other and pray to God that the others don't miss the time when the clock strikes twelve to eat their slice when they're busy creating oceans of the other's heartstrings.

First stop: sweet strawberry skies

We'll breathe each other's names into the breeze and pray to God that the others don't miss the whirring sound it makes when they're caught up building sculptures of the other's bones out of clouds.

He is afraid of the future, and he is afraid to show her all his fears, so he swallows the inevitable terror and hides how it gets stuck in his throat.

She appears to cheat on the chaos with peace, and she appears to be at peace with the chaos, so she stares serenity straight in his eyes while fighting the anarchy inside of her.

There are emeralds behind her eyelids, and gemstones in the dip of her collarbones and she is staring at the green paradise, while hiding where it came from.

There are emeralds underneath his tongue and gemstones buried beneath his fingernails, and he is swallowing the green paradise, while hiding where it came from.

"There are emeralds behind her eyelids, and gemstones in the dip of her collarbones..."

- h.s

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6:34am

I believe that this poem is no longer mathematically appealing; the structure has become shorter than it began, so it is no longer symmetric.

I see that the metaphor has faded, and so has the repetition.

6:25am

I believe that I would swallow more fear for breakfast, and that I will compare it to stardust again.

I believe that I would much more appreciate swallowing actual stardust and dreaming when I look at the stars and feeling the full scope of human emotions without symmetrically thinking about the repercussions of the potential of human emotions.

6:00am

I believe that my yesterday's fear has not wore off, and that perhaps my fear has become a component in my bloodstream, and that it seals my lips shut, and that it is a celestial certainty.

5:23am

I believe that I think about the stars so much because I can form constellations with each star representing a person, always wondering if they would mind me thinking about them so much, or if they know.

5:13am

I believe that my life is a series of uncertainties, and that sometimes I cope by using numbers because it makes me feel like I am thinking more logically, and that I keep talking about mathematical certainties to delay speaking about my fears and the stars.

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