you cup my heart;
enlacing it between
your fingers
with tender care.

you feel it’s beating;
as it is weirdly alive–
weirdly on fire–
above your palm.

so brush your thumb
against this igniting heart,
and press your lips
on it in a tender kiss.

as the only thing
keeping it beating
is the passion
that you coat it with.

It begins with a hush—
the kind that fills your chest,
right before the sky remembers
how to open its heart.

And then it starts—
light breaking through darkness
with no warning, no mercy.
It’s beautiful,
almost unbearably so.
You look up,
and for a second
you forget the silence
that comes after.

I held your hand once
beneath that color sky.
We didn’t speak.
There are no words
that can touch what it feels like
to watch something so eminent
already beginning to end.

That was us

All color,
all chaos,
flashes of everything we wanted to be
and knew we couldn’t hold.

You laughed,
and it cracked something in me.
Not because it wasn’t real—
but because it was.
'Real things don’t last
the way we want them to'

And still,
if I close my eyes—
I swear I can feel the heat
on my face,
like you never left.
Like we are still
watching the skies collide in pastel neons
Like the ending
was always worth
the wonder.

We loved like fireworks.
Loud.
Bright.
Gone.


Erennwrites

The air was aerie and silent, chilly breezes blowing like songs of sorrow

It’s dark, it’s scary, but it tells a beautiful story

Stories that took place on dark nights, just like this one

Stories where the trees looked more frightful than ever, as they cast lonely shadows in which sublime monsters lurk


But with courage, if you venture, if you strike down your fear,

You’ll trial through the forest and come across a safe haven;

A clearing where owls hoot, where fireflies spark

And the deep, blue sky is covered in glittering stars

Then the moon, the supreme ruler of the night– hovering above

Like a celestial being—

To be worshiped,

To be loved

So perhaps the night isn’t so frightful after all

I remember that day so clearly— Well the morning of that day.

I was showering, the light dim, A song playing that takes me far into my past.

There was…  Something about that moment,—There was a feeling I became familiar with.

That moment was so…  Hauntingly beautiful,— Like blood on white roses. It was sickeningly perfect; it seemed wrong yet so right—


The feeling I had was dissociation. But it wasn’t the normal kind, not like the type I have now.

It felt like vape smoke deep in my lungs, filling my head, my mind. But it was dark, like smog. Hovering around me, filling me.

It twisted around my head, like a dark foreshadowing of the horrors soon to come.


I felt clueless…

Yet…

At peace.

It was almost like I was floating.

That morning was like peaceful dribbles of rain, before it strengthened and became a strong storm…

It certainly felt like there were soft droplets falling from a cloud within my head.

Like the dissociative fog became so strong it needed to rain.
How could I have known my soft droplets would turn to pounding rain, with booming thunder and flashing lightning?

How could I have known my heart could beat louder than that thunder?

How could I have known my heart would be that thunder?


But still—

Despite the dreadful day it became.

That feeling— That memory— That day—

Holds a special carved-out place deep within my soul.


A place created from the eye of the storm.

A place of peace, fear, unpredictability,


Yet,


familiarity.

I found an order in the chaos,
a home inside the rubble
that I had turned my room into.

I hid inside my books,
trying to find somewhere where I belonged
in a place that had never been mine.