Sunrise sisters

How in love I am with life to see the magenta magpie sky.

Do we speak to the skies and ask for help because they seem so boundless?

So freeing?

So unreachable

and up there

that we ought to just try to connect to it?

I don’t know about you, but lately

I feel like the ground and the netherworld are my best friends.

I think

I’d rather burrow in comfort than traipse on clouds today.

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Side note: can you believe that the skies actually look like that with no filter/whatsoever?! I’m glad the morning woke me up to show its beautiful face to me that day.

Sunshine highs

The same stories make my heart bloom over and over again.

It’s like the sweet spring and savory summer greeting you under the alcove.

Kissing you with “hellos” on two cheeks, kissing you “good bye” in two weeks.

They must’ve planned this.

Cradled you and let you walk far enough to balance on your two sticks.

Rewinding clouds

Wouldn’t it be great to experience something so beautiful time and time again?

To live through that first feeling you had,

whether it be trying a new food for the first time,

seeing fresh colors of a sunset you’ve never experienced before,

or watching that favorite movie of yours as though you’ve never seen it.

There’s something special about our firsts,

something irreplaceable.

That strength of expression felt from that first time around is something you want to capture again.

But I also think it’s beautiful to let our memories be preserved and aged like fine wine.

There’s something beautiful about knowing how a story will end the second, third, fourth, or twenty-seventh time around.

Beauty comes in pieces, expansive or minute,

they’re lovely regardless.

Limoncello decadence

Three breaths, in and out, skip a rock or two.

I’m choosing not to be mad, giving grace to me and you.

How should I interpret things?

Processing trauma is harder than it seems.

I am just like you. You are just like me.

We, lemons, don’t fall far from the tree.

Hugs from afar

It just feels like shit.

Heartbreaking shit.

It’s the kind of stuff I can’t even comprehend in one sitting.

No, it’s not even a comprehension problem, but an empathy dilemma.

I just don’t know how much of me to pour out for you.

I don’t know if it’s my place; I don’t know if we’re that close yet.

But I feel for you.

I wish I could take it all away from you.

But I can’t.

Just know that I’ll be there.

Whenever you need me,

I’ll be there.

Simplicity

What a time it is to be alive and to be able to find

You.

Be living and breathing and seeing the same stars as

You.

I’m just happy to be breathing, to be honest.

How special of a moment it is.

You keep me grounded, you keep me hoping,

You keep me inspired when I look into the forlorn sections of reality.

I live for you. That’s one reason.

I live for me. That’s a second.

Just two reasons. That should be enough right now.

A spigot of uncertain love

There’s something soothing about the line: “I crossed oceans and ventured through countless skies to see you.”

At least today, that’s how I feel about it. Ask me on other days and my reality-numbing self would be straight and plain with you saying that she believes none of it.

None of it at all with such cheesy spouts of romance.

But today, I accept it. I think I accept it everyday, really.

And yet, I refrain from admitting it openly as though my self-worth degrades itself when showered with affection.

I’ll be guilty of feeling this way. I can just tell.

Cut it out.

Reality won’t be the one that saves you in the endgame. Love will.

Crafting oddities

Desert. Sunrise. Moonlight. Shine.

Embers. Daisies. Pollen. Twine.

I like to paint pictures:

• of lush rivers going through arid desserts
• of the moon’s glow at the strike of noon

It eases me. It tells me that the impossible is only unattainable because your mind decided so.

I like to paint settings:

• of fire in the middle of endless flower fields
• of dusty pollen connected by strings of twine

It comforts me. It tells me that more things can be connected than you otherwise thought.

Possibility

The beauty of possibility.

The wonder, the oddities, and illogical fantasies you can paint with.

Apples aren’t always poisonous

I feel like carving out my heart like an apple. Slowly picking the skin off bit by bit.

Feeling satisfied that I’m stripping layers of it away. Fibrous layers that are too hard to chew, too hard to get through.

Needing to feel the rawness concealed by those layers to feel the smooth, softness that it originally had to begin with.

Maybe it’s not that soft to begin with.

But I’m sure it didn’t start out tough to chew on right away. It didn’t start out with a tough shell that occasionally gets stuck between your teeth, all bothersome to pull out.

It started with a seed. A seed that grows into a flower that grows into an apple that hangs from a tree.

You forget that you were as pure as a seed and as velvety as a blossoming flower at one point.

Don’t let yourself be defined by just your outer layers. No. You developed a tough exterior to protect yourself.

But that doesn’t mean your softness has left you too.

Sunken sunflower commentaries

I’ve been inhaling sunshine and drinking straight sunblock out of the bottle lately. It’s been glorious.

The heat of the sun feels like the tender hug from a lover, you know? The one whose scent tends to linger?

Shielded by leaves of trees, and yet it’ll find a crevice to puncture through. How comforting yet conquest-seeking it is.

The sun calls to you when it’s out, but then it forces you to retreat to shelter once it hides behind its rock. So demanding at times, really.

A source of hope to most and a root of despair to some– what a large number of acquaintances it has to have both so many friends and so many enemies.

There are times where I wish for it to be tucked in bed within the wisps of the clouds so not to blind me for the day.

There are also days where I wish for it to come out sooner than it plans to after a storm. How demanding of me as well.