Welcome to 3 a.m.dear you,Welcome to 3 a.m.
your unruly curls
dug deep roots
into my skull
while we slept,
(our foreheads pressed
together, sharing
nocturnal transmissions)
depositing
the need to be
beside you nightly,
lest I become
an insomniac.
that there is no questionthat the sky was writtenthat there is no question
purple and tornadoed
across the horizon,
that bitter mornings had
turned the landscape
patch-worked and deceptively
quilt-like despite the cold,
that caffeinated carbonated
cocktails would lead to
impromptu serenades done
in a backwater style
in a backwater place,
that the cadenced hum
of tar-striped asphalt
highway acted as a
lullaby blatantly ignored,
that I wish for your company
now more than before
the tornado, the quilt,
the caffeine, the lullaby,
BasementHey, you’re not waking me atBasement
two in the morning to tell me you want me
to get you some water.
My comforter is more aptly named
when you aren’t here to steal
half of it from me.
It’s lonely here without you stealing
my chunky pillows;
I have three to myself now.
It’s hard to snooze without your snores.
One pillow chucked to the side,
at two I wake up anyway,
free form my comforter into a log
that vaguely resembles your body.
Still, it’s hard to snooze without your snores.
UnfitI’ve never been one to romanticizeUnfit
fantasize
of white dresses and extravagant flowers,
of feasts and cake, of guests and vows;
when you said “Church?”, I shrugged.
you took that to mean I didn’t care
to marry.
in august, afternoon, you held me
on the couch - kissed my forehead,
whispered that weddings were evil
“the end of the world”
and made me argue like a woman.
Fate Rewrite P. 1A sunny day in the park. There is a single bench CENTRE stage. GOD is sitting on the LEFT side of the bench. He has long, white hair and a long, white beard, and is wearing a simple white robe. He is reading a newspaper. Enter PETER from the RIGHT. He is wearing black pants, leather shoes, white socks and a white shirt. He is carrying a paper bag. PETER sits on the bench next to GOD, setting his bag next to him. He folds his hands and admires the weather.Fate Rewrite P. 1
PETER. Nice weather today, eh? GOD [focusin
because i love weddings.on Friday night, we stayed up late sharing the fading embers of a single cigarette. I liked how the daffodils were the only colour: hip-deep in white confetti, we waded and waited for the rest to fall into place.because i love weddings.
the church felt so foreign as he tried to press the toxic scent of illegal from his pants: even rubbing roses behind your ears cannot leave you smelling like the law so we waded and waited for someone t
I can't think!
--
a thousand ancient bees began to sting our knees.
avatar by ~VivaLaValo
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