The fog, she listens, she waits.
A spotlight glistens a spot on the pavement
She dances, alone, gracefully
As the rain claps around her
Brava, Brava
She twirls and spins
The moon peeks from behind tempered clouds
Catching a glimpse, of a girl among the fog
She is alive, this tiny dancer,
Not stopping, not even for a breath
The hope, joy, love
All around, beating like millions of drums
The heart of the dancer in the rain
—AuroraRW

we picnic during solstice,
neon-chartreuse vertigo
vision morphs and bends,
we're weightless, astral high
in constant ego death,
eyes so lunar dilated
bits of stars surround us
on the f*cking moon

seven violent truffles
i’ve been high for so long
i rise, thirteen a.m.
in a drab and dreary coma
when i take another sip,
like a wilting lilac-
then spring begins so soon

everything inanimate
speaking in slow tongues
living and observing
from their place of immobility

slow kisses to your skin,
it melts on my lips quickly
like cathedral waxes
in the carmine breeze

everything is alive,
sobriety is so silent
we get high on the roof,
an ashen rocked collision
seven violet tablets
violent constellation
vibrant vein pulsation,
euphoric crystal lines
a new cosmic collusion,
peripheral discernment
we ascend to highest heavens,
just to plummet to the sea.

How can I wash away my sins...
when there is still dirt under my nails
from digging my own grave.

Resolutions are outdated.

Until
You have loved a writer
Or a writer falls in love with you
What's it like

What if, when I say
Love is not merely a word
Usually
Love is not silence
Love is not distance
Love is not a known stranger
Love is not static goodbye

Love is what
Holds on
Love is what
Brings out
The best in you
To be someone's
Everything

Love is what remains
Till the end
More like that