from a writer trying to write

words are really so powerful. writing is magic that we take for granted— you are literally pulling intangible thoughts into reality. something imperceptible becomes real.

well, i've always been a believer in magic.

p.s. you can also read a little more about me in the "about" section overhead :)

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subjective

people say they want love when they mean passion. love when they mean comfort. love when they mean companion. i’m learning that it all...

questions

people say that labels box you in, but there is also a freedom in being able to find the perfect descriptor for yourself. having the...

i'm sorry

thank you for lifting my soul thank you for making me happy, i haven't felt light in forever. you reminded me how it feels to only need...

stage 2: anger

did you think you experienced all of me? you’re wrong. what you don’t know is that i’ve already begun my next life. you see, unlike you,...

lost

sometimes, when it’s cold enough that the wind bites me, i wish i could give all the parts of myself away. the parts that smell of ash in...

i have died again

as it was happening, i was noticing how familiar it felt. while my body was panicking and my mind was spinning my heart was calm. we’ve...

how to love yourself

close the door dim the light carefully strip down trace your fingers over your skin touch every part of yourself go slower on the parts...

tonight

looking at you, i felt still. and it’s because you moved me.

it comes in waves

waves in the form of smiles i can’t control waves of flames licking at my walls melting them waves in the ecstasy of skin and breath and...

my type

unreliable dishonest full of faults i fill their empty promises with my love.

empires

kings watch civilizations burn for their heartbreak women just burn.

i hate him

i hate him. this thought passes through my mind approximately 18 times a day. for every intrusive memory i still get of us, i hate him....

downwards

sometimes i feel like everything i touch turns to dust

xx

i’ve read that mothers and daughters are born in cycles—learning and unlearning until they find a way free from the wounds of...

love song

the graze of your fingers on my brow, your light strokes and touches around my face. my favorite lullaby.

imprint

i see you in everything—the sun slanting into the back seat of my car, the way a stranger’s neck flows into their left shoulder at...

 

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