October 23, 2018

pulse

a warm-colored thrum spreads, a web of fingertip touches and threads of lightning silver my eyelids – I have tasted the sun-beads, have been enveloped by the sweet-spell, and it reverberates.

A notecard, tucked in your back pocket.

I love the way you dance around this, delightfully like a pearl-soft, peach-with-the-skin-on secret. I love all the little words tumbling down, carefully like beads of snow or capsules of fire. I love it nearly […]

buckling & bruising

is there something in your eyes when your fingers work too fast at unwinding my threads a spindle gathering my colors so that you can misuse them however you like is there something in your […]

softened sadness

your night-shrouded eyes have stayed with me I will not apologize for pulling out my heart to read its pulses, blood curling into little letters still, I know you deserve a genre of happiness you […]

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