muse aesthetic đ
tagged by: @daintblue
tagging: anyone!
the softest palms that never want to touch you until after a bottle of wine. Â âą â just braid your hair if you wonât brush it, at least, you useless girl. â âą pulling on your skirt with one hand as you shuffle away. âą â youâll get it done before the day is up. â âą guilt that isnât yours to have. âą itâs a crooked game, but itâs the only one in town. âą chains. âą â how could you do this to me? â âą the sharp sting of guilt. âą you feel something even though youâre paid to do the opposite. âą the family you never had. âą falling backwards through time.âąquicksand. âądrowning, but you donât save yourself. âą â youâre getting better. â âą â they smile like a snake. â âą youâre the stars and the sky. âą thereâs a part of you that couldnât stay away even if you were forced to. âą they are your wings, thereâs no doubt there. âą â letâs take off somewhere. letâs fly. â âą you edge a bit too close to the sun. âąanother ghost to take your place after every stumble. âą deep roots in the ground slashed open in the sun. âą rock candy melting in water. âą waves rise and leave the foam behind. âą the precipice you call home has a tip youâll reach eventually. âą happiness is the best front a man can take. âą â iâve never seen someone as beautiful as you before. â âą Â you disagree; theyâre more beautiful.âądiscomfort at the tiniest of touches. âą the sky opens up when you see them. âą rain comes down. âą poppy fields. âą your sanity hanging by a thread. âą âoh god, what have you done? â âą roommates werenât supposed to be the smartest ones of all. âą theyâve got a devil on their shoulder and an angel in their mind. âą you try to help, but it only got worse. âą now theyâre dead, itâs all your fault. âą adam & eve in the garden. âą a temptress in crisp button-downs. âą â fuck, youâve gone off the deep end, havenât you? â âą they lie so perfectly you almost forget yourself. âą the spark that lit the kindling on your funeral pyre.âą sugar and spice and a taste for the dark side. âąyes saint laurent âą black opium on your pillow, a scented cloud drifting behind you like a cape. âą crisp green apples piled up on the table. âą your shoes are sharp, but your wit is even sharper. âą what a pretty one, they say. âąyou laugh without humor. âą a soft, hollow spot sits in your chest. âą thereâs a place youâll never leave no matter who tries to stop you. âą the seat of power fits like a glove.âąheavy is the head that wears the crown. âą you share a space, but not a mind. âą they think you are weak; you are, maybe. âą â what are you going to do with all of these pills? â âą an empty birdâs nest. âą broken pencil tips. âą thereâs an empty paper in front of you that youâll never fill. âą â we want you to succeed. i hope you can grasp that. â âą â they werenât there when it happened. â âącorruption. âą thereâs a red string tying you together. âą the scent of whiskey on the horizon. âą â youâre the best friend iâve ever had. â âą pink tipped fingers lock in secrecy. âą 99 red balloons drifting through a hazy sky. âą you try to lift your head up, but itâs so much effort. âą always walking on sunshine. âą thereâs a million reasons to come down from the clouds, but you canât be bothered. âą hair twisted up with glitter butterfly clips like a haphazard mobile. âą you drift, but you know where youâre going.âą no one has any dirt on you because youâre infinitely spotless. âą the empty side of your bed they crawled into when they were nine. âą court hearings. âą â I miss you. ââąsiblings are a funny thing. âą they point out every family-shaped hole in every picture on the mantelpiece. âą blackbird screaming âą wake in nightmares âą are you an illusion?âą I donât feel real. âą who is in control?













