How does my name taste?
Is it fond in day time amidst strangers and friends alike?
I would like to believe I am no secret.
I have been pressed against dark hallways, ushered to not make a sound, my name only moaned softly in the middle of the night.
Where I am unseen, unheard, wondering if I could exist in your world. Wondering if I could hold your hand in a crowd, or if you could reciprocate my gaze.
I need to know how I taste.
In both day and night, your name tastes sweet.

You’ll make me laugh till the end of my days.
Finding your eyes is the calm of deep ocean.
I am never here unless here is with you.
Despite the masculinity which oozes in your facade, I feel warm and safe in your presence.
It’s as if your soul duty is to put a smile on my face, and when yours drops, you find solitude with me.
You called me your twin flame once, and I wonder if that’s true.
We are far from peas of the same pod, but for each other seems right.
In all the ways to find people in this world, I’m glad to have found my way to you.
Or the other way around.

rest assured; chaos is on the brink. chaos! the cloak of distraction which shelters the change beyond what appears to ones eye. a storm is brewing, shattering and leaving a wreckage of a once whole, but old ship, riddled of what the ocean has been reclaiming. shells and life forms eating at the old wood of a once stable boat.

though this boat has not braced these seas before.

to make it ashore, a new ship must be tailored by tinkering hands and sailor’d by destiny’s demands.

this woman is anything but hollow, her fellowships far from shallow. She is worn and new, reborn a light. her mind is a vessel which only magic occupies, and the divine feminine looks to the sadness hidden below deck and knows this; will be the rebirth of the absolute you.

Knees scorched and my heart is warm.
Reminiscing days of ocean blue.
Instead I sit in my armour.
Protecting the fierceness of winter breeze.
Hot and cold tend to possess this intensity.
Red licks upon cedars wood, reminding me of the significant vessel I occupy, is capable of feeling too.
There is a certain life to a flame, that I find difficult to express, so instead I will exist in this body.
Reminiscing.

beauty is a selfish pursuit. wild endeavours stood before me on short legs, her eyes seducing me with a look I’d never seen before. Her body was voluptuous; in a way that she could hide a flaw. with her smile, with her face I decided she was a canvas. she moved in feelings, and my brush was stiff. I couldn’t move her way so I made her move mine, and she obliged with a heart full of love. and she danced with her fingers between mine, so I would feel safe that her heart was with me. And now she moved in paint and my brush created a perfect picture of this woman who was mine. Although beneath the thick layer of colour I created for me, was not a blank canvas but a selfless soul who wanted to be free. A pursuit of beauty in another, for my own selfish needs. So I can hold her hand and call her my own. and so you see I’ve painted a pretty picture congratulate me. this canvas could’ve been many things and she hung herself upon a wall for me, to stay put forever.