•growing•

I will not speak

But these pangs, (above or D for example), they seem a desire to romance, carresse, affectionate, nurture and to be nurtured...

Diary entry I guess. #firstpostin2years

The moon seems menacing tonight Distant, cold, solemnly blaring in the vast void of sky Earlier she brings light with welcome and tide Maybe the moon has moods like me As the morepork calls to her, I feel her weight

I will spend my nights thirsting Since the day you left When the swan song turned sour I see rainbows on the shower floor No sweeter than unripe fruit with sugar And I have to fill my days with something other than you Sometimes the something can’t be a someone but something else That’s the hardest part… But I will stew the sour fruits Until their glycerin glucose glistens And pour honey over them until they’re as sweet as I As I can be. And I will be all I want to be Finessed, refined and natural Warm to the touch Dip your finger in Left wanting more than just a taste I’m juicy, I swear it My love, don’t spare it. And I will not need to thirst for a fruit I cannot reach Or that has already fallen to the dirt Trying to reattach it to an already rotting branch. I will grow, flower and bloom; Ripen, sweeten and decay softly, Like the reckless tenderheart I am. I will be a blessing, as best I can. Sweet like the fruit I simmer.

Oh how siblings can bring out the child in themselves through memory

I miss you Jenny