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Kaeli Hearn Mar 2019
I cling to the little moments. The little interactions.

Like the time you told me you liked the color of my shoes.

Like the time you told me if you could go anywhere, you'd go to the Colorado mountains.

Like the time you brushed your hand across my shoulder as you passed.

Am I reading into the little moments? Little scatters of time sprinkled on the canvas.  The shades of reds, blues, and yellows.

I barely know you. But I cling to the moments. Because darling, I would love nothing more to get acquainted with your heart.
Kaeli Hearn Feb 2019
the art of two eyes locking onto each other.

the art of two eyes diving into each other.

the art of eye contact.

a dance between glances.
Kaeli Hearn Feb 2019
The trees are our backdrop; the canvas is painted with deep greens, soft reds, and vibrant orange.

We walk under the draped blue September sky.

You are wearing the old black vans that you claim you've had since you were 11 years old. They have a small hole near the toe.

I am wearing the mint, coffee-stained high-top converse.

We walk side by side, close, but barely touching. Our fingers teasing one another with small touches.

The wind pushes us forward, deeper into the tree's belly.

We explore. Explore caves, rocks, waterfalls, trails, treetops.

You tell me that trees are like poetry to you. You grab a small yellow flower. You rip off a piece from the bottom, scrambled it a bit in your hands then slowly turn me away from you. As you brush my curled hair closer to you, you tuck the little burst of yellow in my hair.


Those trees were poetry to you. & even when you are now thousands of miles away, they are your poem to me.
Kaeli Hearn Jan 2019
my body weighs more than a number.

my body is the weight of the sea -- the stars, moon, and galaxies dancing around the corners of my soul.

my body weighs more than a number.

my worth is the airplane rides, deep conversations, dancing, laughing, crying.

my body weighs more than a number.

my legs have taken me across worlds of sea, land, and mountains.
my arms have hugged. my lips have kissed. my hair has been washed in salt water and seaweed. my fingers have playing white and black keys, painted, created and traced the corners of his palms.

my body weighs more than a number.
my value weighs more than a number.
I am m o r e than a number.
Kaeli Hearn Jan 2019
Laying under the sheets.
Legs tangled, eyes drawn together by the shyness of our hands.

The rain pattered on the rooftop. Click. Click. Clack.

The wind rattled the window panes, ever so slightly.

The white comforter surrounded us in warmth and pushed down on our bodies.

Bedsheets. Wrapped from sunset to sunrise. The stars the light guiding our hands.

You push my hair back from the side of my check. Your eyes pull me closer to yours.

The alarm goes off. Time to get up.
Kaeli Hearn Oct 2018
I feel inspired by the way the bright yellow and deep red leaves fall and as they do they swing dance with the wind as they grace the floor

I feel inspired by the way the black and white keys correlate to make sweet harmonies

I feel inspired by the way the wind and waves creates surges, carrying life within them

I feel inspired by the stars and the moon. How one cannot be full without the other. Each giving a different kind of light, but together give a different kind of brightness

I feel inspired by the snow and treetops; how the light fall of the chilled ice create a spectacle of beauty that glitters in the sunlight

I feel inspired by the city and the lost souls within; as the smoke from their cigarette permeates the air. For this smell is a staple of the city

I guess I am inspired by this deep feeling of connection; togetherness in all of its raw forms
Kaeli Hearn Sep 2018
As the air transforms the summer sun into a crisp, chilled orange canvas, the leaves begin to transform.

They grow older as their complexions fade into all the shades of autumn. The clouds begin to overshadow the sun’s gleam, yet it is friendly.

The air shifts – chilled, crisp, breezed. The vibrant tints of red, orange, yellow and brown paint cities, towns and homes.

An eerie, yet cozy fog drips down from the sky and rests upon the mountain tops. The fire begins to burn and crack warming hands and souls alike.

Although the leaves begin to wilt, there is soft beauty in the dying. The crunch of the fallen leaves being changing seasons, moving on and starting afresh.

There is a calm amber, colored, brisk, changing, vivid calmness to Autumn.

As the leaves begin to fall, hearts change, souls soften and eyes get a gleam brighter to welcome this new season.
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