‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡🪐༘⋆
Autumn's hue, a season anew,
With friends, we dance, and laugh, and do,
In golden light, our hearts take flight,
As leaves fall soft, a symphony in sight.

The rustle of leaves, a sweet refrain,
We chase, we play, and we gain,
In woods so grand, our souls are freed,
Together we roam, our joy unseated.

The breeze whispers tales of days past,
Our laughter echoes, our joy will last,
As we gather 'neath the setting sun,
Our memories made, our fun is done.

I used to wander feeling blue,
Underneath the sky's hue.
As I walk the sky falls true,
I'm at sea limbless and fugue.

Suddenly it all turns green-
An old mango tree I've seen.
A sense of tranquility so serene,
A stark contrast from the marine.

I must have flown from an inlet,
From drowning I must've willed it,
Surviving alone on this islet,
I wear a regal cloak of violet.

I dream of a house colored red,
Ghosts appear, I hide under my bed.
To retreat into my scarlet shed,
This travesty is all in my head.

Sometimes I miss my grandmother,
Younger days with fried chicken supper,
Some mismatched candles I offer,
She would like a splash of color.

All these colors come to fruition,
Whirlpools of colorful emotion,
It all spirals down to destruction,
As I drown ghosts of hallucination.

I dropped by my favorite place today, released another exhausted breath. My pants were bulging out and the fat kept me stretched out. I hate that feeling. My stomach turned into billowy waves of expectant marks, pinning through my outer skin. I hate that feeling. When I sit, my thigh provokes every nerve in my body. If she has thoughts, she'll be a demon whispering through the wind. My unkempt hair is spinning around like gravity does not exist. Somehow, I failed to sigh out the black smoke forming all over my body. My skin, when pinched, is like soft straps that cannot be withdrawn from their owner. My skin is like the skin of my ancestor—it keeps stretching widely, tirelessly, and unprovoked. My heart is tightening its grasp on me. God, please help me! My eyes! I swallowed all my tears away, but my reflection still reflects the dark hue of the moon. When it is sad, the moon exposes his true nature, just like rolled down skins on my neck. My hands go from gently holding my heart out of my chest to weighing the weight of my body. If I let out my thick heart, my body would be lighter and my skin would be a plethora of scars and clay. If I abandon thee and such a calloused body, art will find me beautiful, and that is one of the moon's other sides. It's thick and uncooked. The heavens may not forsake an insecure moon, but a woman hates her reflection when the moonlight lights on her flesh. "Mirror, mirror on the wall..." I called and they did not answer. I froze in my seat and waited until the sun bloomed and dried my tears. Yet I still could not breathe. I went into the sea and swam with the lonely whales. The sun reflected on the waters. I reached letter fourteen, but it was written by someone else. The ambience of the calm ocean washed over me. I released a breathy sigh, and the light went to take me.

The crow and his burnt feathers,
His fading Iridescent luster
calls out for a life that at one point

He knew.

Lined with dark ash, covered
In rubies and gold.
Yet one look up above
One he could not obtain.

An illuminated lie in his dreaming state.

In stillness he stood
The ink that he bore
The scattered light he once held
soaking in his obsidian hues.

Things he could not take back
Things that he could not have

And all the questions he still had
could only be answered

By the moon.

-Kore