Everytime i closed my eyes i saw a Nebula.
A Purple that defined me

Purple, and You.
I saw rays of violet that hugged the faultless curves of your lips. I saw stars that danced on the tip of your perfectly carved nose. I saw forming planets hiding in the unruly curls of your hair.

Purple, me, and you.
I saw the magenta that danced in your eyes. I saw the mauve i stained your neck with. I saw the lavender I extracted from you.

Purple, and Us.
I saw the gravity of the nebula pulling together the clumps of dust and gas thrown out by the explosion of a dying star. I watched the star nursery and wondered if we are worth the collapse of the interstellar cloud. If We are the protostar.

Do you ever wonder what happiness feels like?

When the beating of your heart finally stops echoing in your ear,
When your last tear falls and your eyes shut into an eternal abyss,
When your skin starts tearing up from the inside all the way out.

Your bones have no shelter left,
So they just embed in the same soil where flowers grow.

And now flowers are growing out of your lungs,
What once were your lungs.

Your bones,
And every shred of your flesh
Became beautiful.

Did you really have to die to become something scenic?
Now you’re just a beautiful aroma,
A splendor that grows and gets picked up by someone who could’ve been the love of your life,
Only to be given to the love of his life.
To be tucked behind her ear,
To hang off her long black silk hair

Now you’re just a flower that’s passed around,
Touched.
Abandoned.

She will take you out of her hair when the day is over,
She’ll leave you on her desk,
She’ll leave you there one day after another.

You’re going to start feeling your petals falling apart,
And your stem wilting,
And your core aching.
Did you really have to die to become something scenic?
Did you really have to die twice to prove that happiness doesn’t exist?

the sea, the moon and me
makes
love times three!

The story
writes
the writer

a body
of
stories