the breeze tickles her hair 
and takes her worries with it. 
the sun wants a break
just for a little while.
she misses the sun,
but knows it needs a minute.
she'll be here when it's ready.

i can understand
if you're not making plans
cause it's only autumn
it's the time for boredom

sun is coming down
i can't feel the ground
raindrops on my head
even on my bed

nothing i can't solve
it will soon dissolve
find a new solution
start a new discussion

turn off the alarm
stay here in my arms
if you need just call
walk you through it all

the forecast says that it will rain
but right now the sky looks the same
we might not even see grey clouds
but let's not worry about that now

cause the rain will come one day
but that day is not today
and i'm not trying to delay
don't you get me wrong

i know i can't pretend
i know that it all ends
when it slips away from my hands
i hope i'll be gone

keeping safe in the meantime
that's a tape you can't rewind
don't know what tomorrow brings
can't let go of anything

I feel like a stranger in my own home.
An outsider.
The lodger that has outstayed their welcome.
When are these feelings going to fade?
As though the cycle of my youth has started again.
Pressure.
Pressure to get a proper job.
Pressure to find someone to settle down with.
Pressure to be someone I don’t want to be.
Pressure to live up to the same standards as everyone else.
Pressure to be independent. Not just independent in the sense as we know it but in the financial sense.
Pressure to be thin.
Pressure to be as thin as my mum.
How do I break away from those projections of frustration, of disappointment, of self-loathing?

I miss being a child
full of laughter and wild
without worries and lies

Today I thought about
writing a poem explaining
my greatest fear

of how...
when you’re madly in love
there is always a gnawing thought
that you may one day wake up
to his bags packed
saying he has clarity
that you are not enough

then I realized
any woman who has ever loved
would already understand.

he holds the galaxies in his eyes
my heart in his hands
and fragments of my soul in his

the galaxies are returned when he dreams
his hands tremble at the weight of my worries
and our souls rejuvenate upon intertwining