okay, imagine
for once, not the worst of it
a house, cottage-like, at the edge of the countryside
or perhaps in a small town
there's the slow mornings, lazy afternoons, and evenings smelling of comfort and vanilla
from the candle or from you?
everything is perfect in theory
the curtains are the softest fabric, faint, see-through, gauzy
almost predictable, lighting up the living room
and every time the sun falls at a particular angle
it brightens up the insides, stripes in horizontal and vertical
criss-crossing, like heartbeats in a totem
music plays off a vinyl, in the corner,
the record player sits
dainty-looking, majestic—as if it owns its spot
and it does
can hear the hum of the water
lie in the shower, to relive
the kitchen's a mess of shades ranging from "aesthetic" to chaotic love of academia
there's stacks of books, every corner, even by the windowsill
candles and lanterns, no lighting that'd be too bright to compare what the moon leaves behind
warm, glowing dim like sunsets, golden
lava lamps, ranging in shades from purple to blues
every night, watch the stars change colors
they're there on the walls and the ceilings
the room's threaded, as if built in mattress and moss
with green vines covering every spot—wild, freeing
there's so much beauty within
the unseen: journals and ink-splotched sheets
there's the love for unknown, no fear
like living in a house that sings its own rhyme
speaks its own rhythm
builds its own poem
a small space encompassing a home
home is the one you're with
in person, in your own
you walk in, slip through the doors
they don't creak, open with the smell of innocence and warmth
flooding in are feelings, the unspoken
soft footsteps, bare or clad in socks
making their way through the wooden flooring
the soft hum and tap of the house's backbone
why did we not feel it before?
resembles a daydream from the front
the porch is filled with pots, stones, and herbs
there's a pathway through the backdoor leading to a garden so immense
lie on the grass, soft to touch, like you're on a cloud
and look up, watch the stars
coffee, would you like that or some tea in the mornings?
i'd go for a hot chocolate—marshmallows
let's cook s'mores, how about you pull out a bonfire
sit, once without the glaring screens
the flames are gleaming,
calling out something from within, see it?
the humongous, otherwise intimidating, glass panes
leading to what is the balcony, u-shaped
and it's almost like half the moon
crescent, everything to imagination
rekindling what couldn't be true
stack up the pancakes and churros—
sugar, bad in breakfast
who cares, it's one life
i'll live and love, may it be in disguise
to worsen it all—in bed, put the tray down
eat half-asleep, waking up to cherry-clad cupcake-y mess
and the fireplace?
oh, it sits at the bottom
beneath the show of screens, it lies, unearthened
and every time there's a fire in the furnace
it reminds, combining the breath shared, the touch, the earth
each element having come to show off its play
unprecedented, watering those plants
they're babies, excuse me
i have to enchant
close your eyes if you can see
being greeted with a hug and a kiss
and the cat hisses, almost painstakingly impressive
trying to express the day's worth of boredom
love isn't so reckless
read the incantations with me
sit in the candlelight while the storm hurries
and it could be in the grave depth of nights
isn't it gruesome yet befitting
i love the nightlife
it is only cathartic, dreaming of peace
knowing achieving is like putting iron to test for coal
hoping it'd turn diamond, except even iron burns
upon contact with charcoal
have you dreamt before?
oh, something meaningful that lies in the corners
stories behind your eyes,
or the pits of your heart, hidden, well protected
the best kept secret—
we all have ours, but hiding from what?
work the work
leave the thoughts of the outside where they belong
we've lived so hard and long
dance this evening, holding hands
together as we might be forlorn
uncover everything and beyond
for if they can't handle, let them fear the pressure of it
they won't stand tall
and that's how you differentiate
who handles, who is there
ingenious, romanticising the otherwise slow life
that seems to be passing by, scaring me in the process
i'd live to delude in the illusion of what lies beyond
or even parallely, there's always one of those
so here's to cheering in the midnights
typing upon the old keys, hoping it'd be the 90s
and perhaps there'd be a ball, for the ones who hope
masked as they will dance
praying upon the lunar moon
their wishes may come true
lonely souls beckoned to the wishbones
pull your side,
do you get the shorter end or the longer?
believe as you might
light a candle at 11:11
and blow it when the clock turns 1:43
believing is inhumane
but i set my clock and timer to test
how wrong could it even possibly be?
dazed, lucid.
"what could go wrong?"