“Between tangled timezones and endless space, stay trapped, a dozen conversations in front of that mirror. That shade of lipstick, those earrings or the taste of that lotion. Which one did you hate the most? Y’all created a dozen replications of the same sequence. How did y’all end up loving that reflection, when all y’all spoke about were the little things you hate? What happens to all that truth your hands spoke to her waist ” -Excerpt from a sent mail
”Take me back to where it all began. The place I fell more in love with winter. Where, ironically it was about the warmth, that my body now owes yours. When the only people rooting for us, were mountains dressed in white capes and tall pine trees that only lifted my hopes higher” –
Picture Art by Mason Prendergast.
”When you do open your arms I hope they stretch wide enough to hold me from a millenia and oceans away. When emptiness starts to pull me towards its depth, I hope your presence enters with loud thumping sounds of your monstrous feet. And when I do get cold on the inside, I’m certain that your words will work as fine as your lips and steal my heart with all your warmth.
For darling, I’m counting on this giant love”
Art work/ PC by Quinn Corrado
“Just once, let me bathe in the ice cold waters of all this hurt, and let my skin fall prey to all these frost bites and let it just be in sync with this numbness. Let me feel that tingling sensation of pain and remember every other moment that has felt the same. Let all the pain hurt like never before, before it finally gives up and kills the tissue beneath.”
“I want to make the most of the day. Maybe sit amongst the wildflowers and stretch my legs towards the river, and gather strength from how it can’t flow back to where it came from anymore. While I’m picking flowers pretending to know how to make wreaths, I’ll just give into the moment and let myself be crippled by the thoughts of these insects sticking onto me. After I’m done finding the branch which has the least amount of ants clenching onto it, I want to sit and think less about about how fearlessly I’ve loved, but more about how much I’ve been loved. I want to compile all those conversations that made love grow like dandelions in my heart, gather all those moments hd once ran into these dense forests to sit beside me. I’ll start to write about how his compliments always look good on me, about my need for security and belonging. I’ll swing on branches of hope, and when I pull back, I’ll replay all those happy memories of vacations with my family, and when I rise higher looking at stormy skies I’ll hopelessly hold onto it like a child clinging onto the metal chains of the swing. I’ll walk on extensive patches of a green lawn, in my favourite summer dress realizing how I’ve fenced this emptiness with lush green. And when I return I’ll make a monument of all the memories of my first love, rejection of new love,the roots of hurting, the misunderstanding, old home, and bless the monument with holy tears that cried for attention. I’ll promise myself to visit this monument on 30th of February of each new year”
My heart is a slave to your royalty.
Oh the weight of you it carries in its golden chariot yet here it is ankle deep in empty.
“Soon we won’t need any of this. There won’t be a need for you to disperse into thin air. Everything will stop. You heart won’t be dodging feelings that my words bring to your head. You wouldn’t find me swinging in the old park of rejection. Love, I will be suffocated from your absence that had already started to consume me”