I make memories like an alchemist, turning bone into stardust, transmuting a gentle ‘I love you’ into the whisper of wind through our temples.
I kiss your photograph each morning and you
My diary records the momentous
of the cockatoos that flew
beating their wings in a frenzy
Words spoken like ambulance sirens,
and other soft as petals exhaling
Flowers, wound into my hair
So many things to glide over… this happened, then that.
Golden, spectacular, majestic things, and grimy, muddy, silt-on-the-bottom-of-the river parts.
The times where life twisted within its own small hurricane, and suddenly I am flying with a new pack of birds.
The bliss of small hands becoming bigger than my own.
Of people leaving me, forever. Of finding you, forever. How I make the memories last, is by sticking them to the lining of my veins and bleeding them into the walls of my heart.
Her, on the edge of the bed, smiling so sweetly I felt my heart crack. A kiss is never final, if you can still feel it.
I will always pick flowers for the ones I love. Please remember me amongst the wisteria, calendula and phlox.
I am trying to make memories so you can find me on the scent of blooms as the shift of light catches a brief glimpse of us all.
tangentwithtanner
germansingergirl
amandla
areudirty
titsay
