The Sun Tosses Herself Into The Arms Of The Sea

The sun tosses herself into the arms of the sea

His vast embrace, the only thing she has never felt too infinite for

She takes comfort in being swallowed whole for the night 

Savours the sensation of being devoured 

~ oh celestial love, even the sun longs to be encompassed sometimes, for it is no weakness to desire to be held. you are never too much for someone who cannot get enough of you.

String Theory

About:

1. If god was meant to love me he would not have given me you. He writes this on your palm when the sky is an ink spill and he cannot read anything in your lips except the overflowing of magnificence that drips down your chin in rivulets of melrose perfume each time he kisses you.

2. Let his wrath come for us if it means I can spend my life coaxing your soul into each breath you take. You are dizzy in this jar of fingertips and closed eyes and skin to teeth to lungs to skin. Oh how you want to be as he is, falcon wings spread and scattering the Appalachian dust, each particle a wish to be carried upon cracked beaks and broken feathers to a deity who blesses the way your very essence trembles when he is near.

3. I think I mean it a little more each time I tell you I love you. Is what you wish to reply. But there are butterfly wings beating within your trachea, threatening to escape from your star-smeared mouth in tender waves of boyhood secrets and petal-filled laughter. And you are anchored to silence by the way his hands shake as he unhooks the saint that always rests upon his collarbone, his fingers brushing the fragile bones at the top of your spine. When he pulls away the saint sits on your neck, proof of his worship of you, even if it is damned.

4. I am merely another sacrifice. You think he whispers, maybe he doesn’t. Maybe it was the cicadas, maybe it was the breeze through the wheat stalks, maybe you are drunk on his gaze and didn’t hear anything at all. 

Fridge light starlight. Coupled with moonshine beams sifted through apartment blinds. Bare feet, barer legs, band t-shirt ball gowns. Cool hard wood floor only staining the tips of our toes because we are mostly floating. Teetering on the cusp of forever. I promise i won't let you fall (unless you ask me to). Come a little closer, little miracle, and let me warm the tip of your nose with everything I cannot say. Butterfly kisses that leave nectar residue on your cheeks, the syrup gently trapping dreams drifting through the ether. Swaying to a melody you hum already half asleep on my shoulder. I hold a galaxy in my arms and feel both infinite and so so small.

Wishes made over milk and cookies, too many to count,  all of them tasting like childhood. Crumbs of innocence litter the tiles of the kitchen floor. Sticky fingers and bottomless appetites giving way to eternity. Giggled promises made under comforters muffled in pillowcases. They absorb our whispers into their threads, keep us warm long after the chill of silence settles us. We say little. Listen to our heartbeats. Melt into the darkness. Become constellations. Hold the universe between us in our cupped palms as we drift away. Wake to find we have suffocated it as we slept.

~There will always be more poems for you, my love ♡

I think I am beautiful sometimes. When the universe allows me to be.

If no one heard it, did it happen?

If a person cannot leave a mark, do they exist?

(The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue by V.E. Schwab)

Proof of my existence:

I am my unmade bed

My week old unfolded laundry that was Fresh once

I am the disappointment in my mothers eyes

And the scars I have left on lovers and strangers

I am my clothes I have donated

And my compilation of pintrest boards the innocent scroller will accidentally stumble across

I am the the jokes I penciled into the walls of my middle school bathroom stall

I am the dust I leave behind

Dead skin cells, reminder that they were living once

I was living once

I had once had the pleasure of laying my palm against the surface of something tangible and it felt the contact as much as I did

I am the peices of myself I have left scattered in the people I have let hold me

Long enough for parts of me to become caught under their fingernails and in their eyelashes

I am not my mistakes

But I am their consequences

I am shrapnel scars left by the promises I shattered

I am the pastries I have bought

My coin accumulating into something greater than it once was

And in that small way I make someone's dream a reality

And in that small way I am immortalized

I am the corners of novel pages I have folded

And the sentences I have left highlighted and the notes I have scrawled in its margins

I am the half finished stories I wrote in the 6th grade

I am my poetry

And the things I have discarded

I am my clouded breath dancing on the cold wind momentarily before dissipating

As it becomes one with the ether forever adrift

And in that small way I am immortalized

I am my embarrassing childhood photographs

I am the energy you spent on me and the time you wasted on us

I am the things I have created but perhaps more the absence left in the wake of the things I have destroyed

I am the stains I have left and the sins I have committed

Out of spite, out of desperation, frivolously or unwittingly.

I am the way my name burns yours tounge when your mouth tries to wrap itself around its pronunciation and the scalding memories

I am

I was

here.

jem and tessa constantly thinking about and showing kit how much they love him added 20 years to my lifespan, cleared my skin, raised my grades, cured my anxiety, and gave me 20/20 vision

look

how

much

they

fucking

love

him

Kit is finally home.