coffee shops & cafe chatter, grey blue skies & Pinkberry yogurt in cups shared over a good read & a hot coffee, there's soft music playing in the background that makes me almost feel bad about dragging out a simple commission too long, there are two groups of female friends talking about academics, my best friend is beautiful + makes me feel so soft for life, so patient & so sure that good things happen to good people, for good people, & sometimes it takes a brain + a heart to realize that outside of Odyssey pages & 23% battery left on a cellphone that never stops buzzing, I remembered citrus vibes again, which brought back the sun for a second cup, tied to a mural on the wall w our names on it & iced vanilla cold brew coffee, one small & one medium please
Feb 12, 2019
Feb 12, 2019 at 8:07 PM UTC
something about checkered ties & purple hearts clenches a part of my hand that keeps me from writing to you and i cant even blame the snow for falling on a saturday bc God knows something needs to come down on us and it cant be our blue realizations or late movie night plans 76 days post April fools where once again the scar on your right hand will remind me of vicious wolves who only know fear and full moons, something we never talk about bc Halloween comes in a different month than Christmas & apparently that's an issue about advent calendars, not mood swings so constant you'll burn your pinky on a tray of bruschetta toast 4 times & react differently each time the heat wants to darken your skin unkindly
Jan 23, 2019
Jan 23, 2019 at 6:21 PM UTC
i didn't want to paint i just wanted to be great at something so i unghosted my soul, told her to go pick 6 roses out of the garden of my love for the mountains & i pierced my nose w a silver needle that was so sharp i could hear your velvet voice again & it call came back to me in little waves of blue pain and sunflower energy on lined sheets of paper sort of like this one with an orange accent I had to find in Rome behind motorcycles & burnt coffee w out the bitter memory of sugar cookies, only the ones we ate on long weekends by the beach beside the ways in which the sun told us the stories of sunken ships & waves the moon wanted to create at 2:11am on the least windiest days. i didnt bring my brushes w me, but a skateboard and a glass house were enough for a disappearing act & 3 conversations w a wall and spray paint can
Jan 23, 2019
Jan 23, 2019 at 6:15 PM UTC
i tie and retie my hair w the same scrunchie that you gave me 5.6 years ago hoping your cinnamon eyes will return my gaze but the purple clouds at sunrise can't and won't blow out the fire in my bones fast enough to look away, the railing on our front porch is falling apart for the first time since we bought this haunted place but I don't have the guts to get out my silver hammer and whack the nails back into place the way you carry around a loaded heart & never hit my love out of bounds, but still past the field where we used to play baseball as kids, the same bases that I fell for something about you in black & white nights red lipstick stains & dainty gifts, we didn't need to watch fireworks every 1st of July because we had sparks inside of us but we did anyway, I'm not sure why, & it was till 2:13 every night that you still had me on your mind till the next phone call in off white and spearmints green
Jan 23, 2019
Jan 23, 2019 at 6:08 PM UTC
I'm back to filling old notebooks again, words strung together loosely while the sky turns blue w new time the way you add sprinkles to your vanilla ice-cream but dislike the same thing w donuts, you say the hold in the middle should be filled yet boston cream is too heavy; was my heart too big to carry or was the neon sign that read 'sweetheart' too bright for your soul to read; I know you've been climbing broken fences again till your knees are bleeding silver gold black brown and blue but you hide it so well w no cracks in your smile & no remorse in the same way you leave every morning at 10:11am before eggs and pancakes
Jan 23, 2019
Jan 23, 2019 at 6:00 PM UTC
light of a fire, staring in the bright eyes of a tiger as you wear your golden heart on your sleeve & try to fight off watery disaster but it'll come in the form of orange rose petals and bright blue lights and ink from your dangerous veins will seep through the pale of your jeans even on the days that the sun never seems to set as you sit atop a dusty mountain that shares your middle name so you climb back down with a look on your face that could only be one of either light determination or distant satisfaction, like the difference between citrus lime and citrus lemon in a coffee cup enough for 2 morning breakfasts and a sky full of shiny stars that you gracefully painted over with red chalk because you were on an adventure
Apr 14, 2017
Apr 14, 2017 at 11:22 PM UTC
-you rip up your coffee cups after you're done with the drink just as an excuse to stay and talk longer yet the thought of spending time unchaining your fears fights the red in you to conquer them in groups of 2
-did you forget that you were once an artist who could move mountains into valleys just to brush the snow off them?
-whoever set fire to the blooming flowers you holistically grew in your heart was only doing you a careful favour because you never liked orange roses and now you're watering glowing daises that suit your vibe anyway
-brick walls aren't as blocked off as they seem but the cement keeps them together like the sky is willing to do for you
-stop picking apart the petals on peonies and maybe the stars will stop picking pieces of peace off of you
Mar 27, 2017
Mar 27, 2017 at 10:29 PM UTC
-iced coffees and knife tattoos couldn't justify the broken glass glinting off your back, so water down the orange sadness in your grey eyes and start pulling apart the summer nights' convenient secrets
- the gas station 6 minutes from home can teach you a thing or two about energy and mileage but no matter how far you go, the moon will always being its stars along to remind you of brand new ideas and bright eyes; don't blink or you'll miss a gunning thought
- with the loose thread on your hat's embroidery, stitch together 24 dandelions and swallow the ink that runs from the moments that you put you on a golden high; speeding down the highway on the road to a fresh, green burst of adrenaline on the coast is one that turned into silver
- your walk to the white laundromat down the street required a soft cold slurpee that would quench more than just your summer vibe but you picked up a medium iced hazelnut coffee instead and called it 'starting over' so your best friend would be proud of the way you handle new beginnings and stale cookies
Mar 27, 2017
Mar 27, 2017 at 10:04 PM UTC
roses peek through the cracks in your soul, your heart is overflowing with peace but your eyes remain dark brown in the sunset, is it because your flight to italy was cancelled in the middle of your worst year or because the constellations that you kept shining in your right palm; the hand with the zigzag scar from your last rollerblading accident, were given to someone who didn't even know that thorns came with soft petals too
Mar 27, 2017
Mar 27, 2017 at 9:19 PM UTC
staple a gun to your heart and call on the sun to melt the silver pieces into one, what i'm trying to say is put yourself back together and let the warmth radiate from your body like it used to, once i saw flowers pouring out your ribcages, now i see icicles freezing over your eyes but don't lose colour in your paints because at least when your brush hits the surface it carries something more than a gunning fresh start and less than a silver burden
Mar 18, 2017
Mar 18, 2017 at 3:58 PM UTC