Ask and you shall



of your hearts desire.

I’m an unreliable narrator, and my feelings are dry 

like an old bouquet in the corner of the room  

Am I okay to know?                                      

Self soothing as my wails fall off the bone lingering in a waning sweetness that swells and seeps onto a cotton floor.

I come in the form of a weeping wound bound by a loosed tourniquet.

No place is Utopia. Literally. A mirage of meaning. No place is Utopia. To desire means to essentially never have nor had, and to want it so deeply and yet knowing once held you become disgusted by the reality. I just learned the term limerence, which can be defined as yet another form of daydreaming, I then made a playlist titled “unrequited” 

The three phases of limerence: 


Please just tell me one more time how this is the life that is meant for us. For me, and for us. That this is what we have been working and searching for. Finally, a feeling I have felt for so long and yet is still new and craven. In the overwhelming process of it all, you stay and continue to provide some source of weight as I drift away to seek a new feeling. But you stay in that beauty You stay placed in my head and hands.  Intact and motionless becoming my shadow and my only source of light

all at once.

     Grandma’s feet swinging off the bed

Reach out to say hey
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