#cottagecore
today, demeter is nothing but
a bewildered ghost in a haunted meadow,
skinning flowers as they weep:
they're neatly lined as in an execution,
the creek, a boneyard,
a lair of sorrows for her dazed *********
today, the sun desperately combs
through tree branches
for an abandoned nest of grief
but its hands just stray too far
and poke at a meadow's wound —
nails cutting through graying skin.
this is a poem written by a bystander.
this is a poem written by a witness.
this is a poem written by the victim.
the world blurs its lines today
and demeter is nothing
but a forgotten ghost
in a town painted new.
Oct 30, 2021
Oct 30, 2021 at 12:59 AM UTC
the first time we met
you were daisies.
fragile
thin
soft
sweet
laughing in rain
running in wildflowers
resting there too
...then you were gone.
the next time
you were roses.
robust
sturdy
reserved
beautiful
running from the world
playing broken pianos
living in empty castles
...then you were gone.
the third time
you were violets.
delicate
cheerful
royal
drinking bitter petal tea
watching stars
dressing in diamonds
...then you were gone.
a fourth
a fifth
a sixth
i find you again
again
again
it's all different
every time.
but you never remember.
not me.
not until your last moments.
...and so it repeats.
eternally
Apr 7, 2021
Apr 7, 2021 at 11:06 AM UTC
a lifetime
short and simple
living in the wood
bathing in moon
splashing in rivers
watching stars
it's peaceful.
Apr 6, 2021
Apr 6, 2021 at 8:58 AM UTC
I want to go live in a cottage in the woods
By myself with a few pets here and there
My friends would live not too far and would visit every day
My family would visit once a month and only on holidays,
Except for my extended family who would not ever come to my house, I’d only see them at theirs
I would have a cat, a bunny, and a dog
Maybe a chinchilla
I could bake cakes, cookies, and pies by the window in the kitchen
I could have a garden filled with flowers and fruits
I could have a stone pathway leading to my house
I could practice my witchcraft in peace and live happily on my own
I usually close my eyes to imagine this perfect place
Where I can dance in the rain and watch Studio Ghibli every day
I hope that I can have that one day,
To live peacefully on my own without a care in the world
Jan 19, 2021
Jan 19, 2021 at 12:23 PM UTC
sun through the window,
the beat of your heart
through your white wedding dress,
i trace reflections art
Dec 17, 2020
Dec 17, 2020 at 12:57 PM UTC
let me lay a kiss upon your temple
count your freckles, soft skin so simple
Dec 1, 2020
Dec 1, 2020 at 1:16 PM UTC
you write to me
about our kids and the hill we live on
you write to me
about the "honey, I'm home"s and soft loaves of homemade bread
about making soup as a family
about working from home living on the land
about swatting hands away from dinner until its ready
about eating outside in the light summer evening
picnic baskets soft glances as you do
homemade jam and uncut meadow filled lawns
and even though we haven't talked in weeks
I see it so clearly that I'm overwhelmed
tears of craving that
of wanting that
of wanting you
I had forgotten how quickly I bend for you
gentle words about a tender life
I'm bending
so far, for you
but you leave
long gone
too far to whisper your soft words
I will shatter
like I always do
break in half
even in two
id choose that
id choose life with you
Isn't that terrifying
Nov 16, 2020
Nov 16, 2020 at 8:45 AM UTC
to lie down next to you in all of the perpetuity,
moss will grow all over our skin —
as if mushrooms, feeding on
dying, young aspens
and maybe the forest will claim us for its own.
to lie down and watch light slowly go mad
at the sight of the fog that festers,
at the feel of the skin that rots:
a macabre sight to the outside world, yet —
a lively feast to a ****** of crows.
soon, sweet one, candles will die
and i'll be lying next to you —
the feel of daylights, forgotten.
Oct 29, 2020
Oct 29, 2020 at 7:22 AM UTC
i am fluent enough to understand emptiness when it speaks to me; if you dust off my skin enough, you'll see traces of the sighs we exchange — spilling down gracelessly, they bruise a fragile skin. i have mastered the art of naming them after wild lilacs.
maybe for once, i can say that i am soft enough to grow flowers on my wrists. my lungs. my sternum — all the parts of me that hurt.
but i know too well all about screaming in barren lands. i have thrown my poems in a forest fire. i have forgotten how to breathe without hands around my neck. i have wished to fall on a sword, way too many times to still call these open wounds as bruises — these bruises as flowers — these flowers as soft.
i am fluent enough to understand emptiness when it speaks to me — kindly, and yet, how can i tremble over gentle things? maybe pain isn't what it always is, and i wish to unlearn this language — the mother tongue, whose every word i know by heart. and maybe one day, when it sighs my name, i finally will stop sighing back.
but now, this bed is caving in under all these lilacs and glassy, distant eyes. oh, such a classic case of a girl gone mad at the sight of sunbeams on dying flowers — aching in silence, as she watches it all.
i am fluent enough to understand emptiness when it speaks to me. and outside, the sun rises in vain.
Oct 10, 2020
Oct 10, 2020 at 7:20 AM UTC
call you miss peach
mushroom princess
sugary sweet
my fairy child
cottagecore queen
(hello)
goodbye i think it's time that i leave
i know that now's no good for you and me
we'll be together one day baby (maybe)
but until that time i'll set you free (oh)
did you cast a spell
because i fell head over heels
i know your type well
fairies and elves get me hurt
because i fall too **** hard
(hi there) hello
looks like it's time that i go
you and me won't work out too well
we'll be together one day (unlikely)
until that time you won't be mine (oh)
call you miss peach
mushroom princess
cottagecore queen
not trying to be mean
but you're just a little too sweet
(hello) goodbye i've got to go
i think it's time that i leave
now's not a good time for you and me
won't be together baby
until you decide to fly by me (oh)
call you miss peach
mushroom princess
and you'll never be
not trying to be mean
but you're just a little too sweet
my cottagecore queen
Jul 13, 2020
Jul 13, 2020 at 11:43 AM UTC
and yet, what are we but mere mortals
somehow caught in the world's anger?
what am i but just another girl
weaving these words
in the corners of a ceiling
where the moon doesn't shine —
hidden by dust and out of reach
and you are a victim,
walking straight to spider silk;
somewhere in the sky,
artemis is perched on the moon —
watching, warning.
and for all we know,
she knows, that apollo, too
had written poems for all his lovers;
i will borrow these words,
fumbling to write all the things
i cannot say.
but in the end, how can i write
about your love and its softness
when all i've known are wolves and shredded baskets,
when my legs are made for chasing the fog,
when my hands are made for ripping red cloths
and poorly folding them into roses?
alas, darling,
these are my pressed tulips and chaste kisses
delicately folded into words.
this is my testament;
these are my whispers in their softest.
these are my fingers in their gentlest.
this is my love for you.
this.
Apr 26, 2020
Apr 26, 2020 at 5:42 AM UTC
I crouched by the flowers beside the dirt path
holding one gently as i breathed in its scent
I heard you call from further down
looking up, I feel the warmth of summer on my face
I stand and breathe
the air is fresh and warm
the only noise is the birds chirping along the treeline, and us, walking along arm in arm and discussing everything and nothing
Nov 10, 2019
Nov 10, 2019 at 11:01 PM UTC