she waits alone far away from the group, where she can feel lost. the blades of grass, long enough to distort the fabric of her dress. lace curled around botanical rings. Delicate pink petals that she collects, iris’ she plucks gently by the stem. pollen glitter reflecting rays through the trees, concealing her scuffed knees. taking a white wildflower into her collection, for a makeshift bouquet.

This is where she felt at peace, almost real but not yet. but seeing a figure split amongst the trees, running catching it’s own pieces. the fragments of shadows leaking into the flowers. perspective of her corpse, left in the forest, watching the world decay faster than her dreams. It reaches out for her, one step closer, until

the warm embrace of a familiar face, clutching her closer as the figure vanishes. kissing her neck and taking her back, feeling the rush of blood fill her cheeks, pool in her once numb hands. the fleeting feeling of possible love masking the fear, hearts around her head. No longer feeling dread, of wishing the forest could take her life instead.

i am hopelessly in love with memories
of adoring you and your strawberries

we would lie in your single bed you had since you were seven
promising to never love sober again

while you ate a strawberry shortcake of a porcelain plate
dressed up sultry to be sick till you faint

my cheeks rosey, sweetened with drops of nicotine
admiring you while you decorate your own guillotine

you told me if you’re sick the baby will be sick
i didn’t understand it, till i was throwing up strawberries in the sink

hiding in his own wardrobe is a man named laurance

his home has no tables, no chairs
only a mattress and a set of stairs
he had made a furniture fire
weirdly a story i admire

for winter when he couldn't afford heating
burning his door to keep his heart beating
but i wouldn't give laurance any pity
since he wasn't so witty

he spent all his rent money on acid
and boxes of cigarettes he sold for a quid
because of this he hides in his cupboard
from his ******* landlord

our room begins to breathe blossom
lip stained cigarettes cast a roseate smoke
cream walls fade from blushing nicotine

charming addicts adorned with primrose cheeks
and hollyhock pollen dripping from their noses

our laughter soon slips into misty delight
eyes barely open to see the peachy haze
kissing us from one too many pink pills

a perpetual blur of white figures
shroud ghosts of my being as it lingers
the distortion of the simplest thoughts
drown me with moonstruck gazes in knots
flickers of recognition bleed into stares
each breath i take is raw and rare

my incomprehensible terror as bleached bodies
follow my every step - disembodied
hiding my fear blushing through my fingers
angels laugh and burn their cigars
on pale flames perseverating, taunting me
with trailing smoke and obscure entities

unholy bliss in the idea of death
the wish for escape in my choked breath
forcing a spiral into a cacophonic delusion
thinking nothing is real, it’s all an illusion  
i’m chasing heaven as i start to cry
for the dread in knowing i can never die

lines of sheets like cotton cream and pink
floral ghosts, dance in the window above my kitchen sink
holding hands as they haunt and tease
my garden of lavender and lilac sweet peas

stars disappear into a morning so delicate that there’s nothing
aside from me and the raspberry spirit washing