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Literature
Constellation
She is dream dust,
too bitter or wise
for her own good.
A timeless dragon's soul
somewhere inside a
scaled shell, burning
the silence in her bones
alive, honeysuckle sweet.
She collects fireflies only to
set them free at 3am,
crying to an uncaring moon.
& she's begging for the stars
to take her away,
make this house a home
rigged in the sky.
To me,
She is already naked fever
swimming through the cosmos
& I orbit her.
Literature
August Lover,
I want to wrap myself in your air,
hold your secrets between my
ribcage-embrace & just
breathe.
Literature
Seventeen (In Phases)
1.
It was because her parents had named her for the grandmother who had broken her mother’s heart. The grandmother whose heart was supposed to have melted from her birth and hadn’t.
That was why her mother barely looked at her. That was why she called her ‘girl’.
That was why she liked to pretend she was the quiet woman in the background of an old black and white movie. Because everything here was like an old black and white movie.
[And if she really looked back, her mother had never appreciated the elegance of the 1950s enough.]
2.
It was because she hated surprises. The surprise she got on her sixth birthday wh
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as winter slowly approaches, i attempted to personify the seasons because i feel like they are all interconnected in a way that's beyond us, that is more personal than we can ever understand. there is a reason why one leads to another, and this is my take, albeit sentimental, on their individual faces.
© 2012 - 2024 momo-madness
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Wow!! I love it!!