Feb 27
i bite the skin hanging off of my thumb with ladybugs in my hair.
last year, my mom made a wreathe of green and pink hydrangeas that she grew on the side of the house. they're dried up now.
i promise i'll make up for all the years i was supposed to be kissing you instead of them.
my eyes glaze over with euphoria from knowing i will soon douse my whole self in childhood.
ten years ago my father's day gift to my father was moving 2,429 miles away...
the sea turned into lakes, and lost it's salt and starfish.
i sigh heavily as i weave through the cars, another seven hours ahead of myself, and hold my breath as i walk through his cloud of cigarette smoke as he says, "you just coming in?"...
california hasn't forgotten about me...it waits patiently for me knowing i would always return
|
return to it's dusty air and beige dry grass, shriveled in my palms after i picked them out from the cracked ant-infested dirt as i sat "criss-cross-applesauce".
it waits patiently...i wait impatiently...
the mountains watched over me through every black-top-scraped knee and monterey sticky-fingered ice cream cone.
the seals slept soundly on the sun-heated rock beneath the obnoxious seagulls, unbothered by the tide-splash.
SEQUOIA NATIONAL PARK
|
KINGS CANYON
|
DINKY CREEK
|
YOSEMITE
the redwoods and i are related by blood, but they never believe me when i tell them. i can scream it until i am black and blue.
my hair looks like night in the evening, chocolate in the day, and becomes fire in the sun.
dopamine limbs, serotonin mind, and oxytocin heart.
i was never impressed by blue eyes until mine met yours.
eye-contact is a language in and of itself. but few are fluent.
i arrive at you fully made up and exactly how i want to be...
|
wisp and bisk rub off onto your clothes and skin as you love me whole.
|
i leave as more myself, seen raw and authentically bashful.
and to my surprise, i leave feeling more beautiful than before...
this morning i had to look up the definition of "LONELY" because i forgot what it meant.
(a week later) this morning i remember what being lonely feels like.
medical supplies is becoming my unfortunate attributed aesthetic, i fear.
i have never been particularly athletic but i would swim across all fifty seas for you if you needed me.
walking with purpose but mindlessly, all others only blurs i didn't bother to distinguish, daydreaming of your black shirt scrunched into my fist-
i notice she was asking me a question ! begged to know what smelled of indulgence and unidentified nostalgia...
|
: vanilla, salted caramel, saigon cinnamon, heavy cream, sandalwood, orgeat, ice cream shop.
|
she told me it fits me perfectly...sweet but subtle...niche but noticed.
eleven minutes left and feeling very corporate as i look out the third-floor window. neighboring building's & office windows.
the sky was cobalt but my skin was pale.
and you don't say much in reciprocal anymore...are you tired, my love?...
i cried when you told me you loved me.
much-anticipated days of strawberry milk mustaches, laughing until our stomachs ache, and sun-slapped cheeks.
eye watery, pigeon-toed in ***** shoes on the pale checkered floor. she's a summer baby.
i tell him i have known him for four years now, in asl from across the market (in my head, over and over and over again)
i only half listen as she tells a story of a woman who was obsessed with saffron-colored fabric. the other woman argued that the thread wasn't saffron, but red. in which she then stood corrected as the other explained how the water turns orange when the thread was dipped into it.
i miss her and her purple hair. i only pay her a visit when my bangs poke my eyes every morning before i curl them.
a box of chapbooks sat upon his desk touching a ripped manila envelope full of printing press letters.
|
"S"
between debates about jam v. jelly and strawberry v. grape jam/jelly, we dance as friends and friends only this time..
i recall, last summer tasted of cookies too-sweet, but this time it'll be just right.
our star beams & casts shadows onto your sheets. your eyes ablaze and your hair afire. i won't kiss you gently when you look that beautiful.
they told me they'd teach me how to swim, then left me drowning in their pretentiousness.
you held me down but i was set free . . .
|
you're more gentle than i thought you were.
|
it actually hurts thinking of you kissing someone else.
"she used to wear that shirt a lot." my mother told me. she deserved a life full of joy.
BRUISE COUNT: 15
BRUISE ORIGINS: WORK, WORK, WORK, WORK, WORK, WORK, WORK, WORK, WORK, SLEEPING, SLEEPING, ??, ??, ??, ??
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ COUNT: 5
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ COUNT ORIGINS: LOVE
they don't know the valley the way i do. but i hope they will.
i take up as much space as i possibly can to feel more comfortable.
i only end up feeling more vulnerable. retreat or proceed
tears of fear when eyes should be closed.
i watch her weeping with poor statues of woeful beautiful women
with nameless faces and bare ******* not-quite covered by chiseled cloth. modesty.
my cheeks are flushed as glitter mixes with salty tears, making my skin itchy, raw, bare...
i lean over the vintage sink, peering deeply into the mirror in a dimly lit bathroom of someone i only met once before...
when i was younger i always thought that it was impossible to die in a church. i thought that being inside of it made us
INVINSIBLE . . .
when i was younger, i never really thought about how
birthday cakes don't only have to be "birthday cake" flavored
|
meyer lemon-raspberry, chocolate-cinnamon, quadruple-chocolate, key lime-blueberry-strawberry, carrot, german chocolate, red velvet !
the cars in the review mirror made a total eclipse.
you are the softest color i have ever touched.
and...
you still know me better than most, even if you don't know my favorite ice cream flavor.
logopoeia of ellipses.
i will know the touch of the rays, the slimy backs of 𓆏 after the rain,
and the sting from stepping on chipped shells in the wading water . . . . .
last year, my mom made a wreathe of green and pink hydrangeas that she grew on the side of the house. they're dried up now.
i promise i'll make up for all the years i was supposed to be kissing you instead of them.
my eyes glaze over with euphoria from knowing i will soon douse my whole self in childhood.
ten years ago my father's day gift to my father was moving 2,429 miles away...
the sea turned into lakes, and lost it's salt and starfish.
i sigh heavily as i weave through the cars, another seven hours ahead of myself, and hold my breath as i walk through his cloud of cigarette smoke as he says, "you just coming in?"...
california hasn't forgotten about me...it waits patiently for me knowing i would always return
|
return to it's dusty air and beige dry grass, shriveled in my palms after i picked them out from the cracked ant-infested dirt as i sat "criss-cross-applesauce".
it waits patiently...i wait impatiently...
the mountains watched over me through every black-top-scraped knee and monterey sticky-fingered ice cream cone.
the seals slept soundly on the sun-heated rock beneath the obnoxious seagulls, unbothered by the tide-splash.
SEQUOIA NATIONAL PARK
|
KINGS CANYON
|
DINKY CREEK
|
YOSEMITE
the redwoods and i are related by blood, but they never believe me when i tell them. i can scream it until i am black and blue.
my hair looks like night in the evening, chocolate in the day, and becomes fire in the sun.
dopamine limbs, serotonin mind, and oxytocin heart.
i was never impressed by blue eyes until mine met yours.
eye-contact is a language in and of itself. but few are fluent.
i arrive at you fully made up and exactly how i want to be...
|
wisp and bisk rub off onto your clothes and skin as you love me whole.
|
i leave as more myself, seen raw and authentically bashful.
and to my surprise, i leave feeling more beautiful than before...
this morning i had to look up the definition of "LONELY" because i forgot what it meant.
(a week later) this morning i remember what being lonely feels like.
medical supplies is becoming my unfortunate attributed aesthetic, i fear.
i have never been particularly athletic but i would swim across all fifty seas for you if you needed me.
walking with purpose but mindlessly, all others only blurs i didn't bother to distinguish, daydreaming of your black shirt scrunched into my fist-
i notice she was asking me a question ! begged to know what smelled of indulgence and unidentified nostalgia...
|
: vanilla, salted caramel, saigon cinnamon, heavy cream, sandalwood, orgeat, ice cream shop.
|
she told me it fits me perfectly...sweet but subtle...niche but noticed.
eleven minutes left and feeling very corporate as i look out the third-floor window. neighboring building's & office windows.
the sky was cobalt but my skin was pale.
and you don't say much in reciprocal anymore...are you tired, my love?...
i cried when you told me you loved me.
much-anticipated days of strawberry milk mustaches, laughing until our stomachs ache, and sun-slapped cheeks.
eye watery, pigeon-toed in ***** shoes on the pale checkered floor. she's a summer baby.
i tell him i have known him for four years now, in asl from across the market (in my head, over and over and over again)
i only half listen as she tells a story of a woman who was obsessed with saffron-colored fabric. the other woman argued that the thread wasn't saffron, but red. in which she then stood corrected as the other explained how the water turns orange when the thread was dipped into it.
i miss her and her purple hair. i only pay her a visit when my bangs poke my eyes every morning before i curl them.
a box of chapbooks sat upon his desk touching a ripped manila envelope full of printing press letters.
|
"S"
between debates about jam v. jelly and strawberry v. grape jam/jelly, we dance as friends and friends only this time..
i recall, last summer tasted of cookies too-sweet, but this time it'll be just right.
our star beams & casts shadows onto your sheets. your eyes ablaze and your hair afire. i won't kiss you gently when you look that beautiful.
they told me they'd teach me how to swim, then left me drowning in their pretentiousness.
you held me down but i was set free . . .
|
you're more gentle than i thought you were.
|
it actually hurts thinking of you kissing someone else.
"she used to wear that shirt a lot." my mother told me. she deserved a life full of joy.
BRUISE COUNT: 15
BRUISE ORIGINS: WORK, WORK, WORK, WORK, WORK, WORK, WORK, WORK, WORK, SLEEPING, SLEEPING, ??, ??, ??, ??
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ COUNT: 5
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ COUNT ORIGINS: LOVE
they don't know the valley the way i do. but i hope they will.
i take up as much space as i possibly can to feel more comfortable.
i only end up feeling more vulnerable. retreat or proceed
tears of fear when eyes should be closed.
i watch her weeping with poor statues of woeful beautiful women
with nameless faces and bare ******* not-quite covered by chiseled cloth. modesty.
my cheeks are flushed as glitter mixes with salty tears, making my skin itchy, raw, bare...
i lean over the vintage sink, peering deeply into the mirror in a dimly lit bathroom of someone i only met once before...
when i was younger i always thought that it was impossible to die in a church. i thought that being inside of it made us
INVINSIBLE . . .
when i was younger, i never really thought about how
birthday cakes don't only have to be "birthday cake" flavored
|
meyer lemon-raspberry, chocolate-cinnamon, quadruple-chocolate, key lime-blueberry-strawberry, carrot, german chocolate, red velvet !
the cars in the review mirror made a total eclipse.
you are the softest color i have ever touched.
and...
you still know me better than most, even if you don't know my favorite ice cream flavor.
logopoeia of ellipses.
i will know the touch of the rays, the slimy backs of 𓆏 after the rain,
and the sting from stepping on chipped shells in the wading water . . . . .
