Check out my sculpture
For Emily Dickinson’s ‘Wild Nights’
Junot Díaz, This Is How You Lose Her
the time for realistic romance is over it’s time for passionate breathtaking heartstopping love affairs to be back in fashion
David Whyte, Dream (via artpropelled)
i. phosphorus; atomic number 15, never found as a free element on earth, essential for life; named for lucifer, light-giver, glows in the presence of oxygen.
ii. girl as a swarm. i keep bees under my tongue, never find purchase, feel dizzy in high places because what if this body jumps. i picture bad moments like blizzards, count and recount what could go wrong and weigh it against the fragile good i sew.
iii. you and blue have a lot in common; the cliche of oceans, the cliche of a river that moves so smooth through my blood i don’t realize until too late i’m terribly drunk, the cliche of a lovely bruise and your voice and the songs you hum
iv. combustible, relating to combustion; able to catch fire and burn easily.
v. i’ve been learning the names of mythical creatures, i’ve been learning the names of plants and animals, i’ve been learning the names of funny internet kittens. i’m keeping my thoughts organized into “would you like this”, “i have to show you” “how do we hide the truth in this.” my anxiety and i are partners in a landslide hunt; we devour any fact that might convince you we’re good enough.
vi. you as electricity. the blush of your cheeks and how your hair looks when it’s messy. in this is simplicity, i catch, don’t have words for the burning. there’s just you and easy, your body in my sheets, a switch flicking. no noise no static no unbecoming. i know i’m shaky. it’s just the shock of the falling.
vii. melting, to melt: to thaw when exposed to heat. to become more tender, to become more loving.
a concept: youre okay. we’re happy. its warm out, and we’re in a field of flowers. you’re smiling and your eyes are shining. there’s an abandoned picnic basket from our lunch and there are abandoned notebooks next to it as we lay and look at the clouds together.
another page
143
Jack Kerouac, Big Sur
the poem: two toothbrushes by the sink. this wordless love letter. I’m coming back. there’s a piece of me here. this is where I want my days and nights to take place, right beside yours.
hi i’m athena aka your local trash lesbian who never stops taking selfies!! i love fall & this weekend i watched horror movies and bought new flannels and socks🍂
lmao
i woke up 20 minutes before my alarm and the sky was pink
the sky was pink and stormy tonight