olivia

raw: persephone, the goddess of hell and spring. split pomegranates. jewelled daggers. driving at night in the summer, the windows rolled down, the hot wind in your hair. beauty and ferocity. spilled wine. licking the blood from your teeth. combat boots and lace. walking the edge. brutal beauty.

something good: gentle beauty, holding hands with your lover, kisses that taste like carmex lip balm, iced coffee, pink sweaters, picnics in the summer, running into the ocean, someone tracing patterns on your skin, lemonade, napping in the sun, sea salt, sunsets. 

sea: rocky beaches and sandy shores, the smell of low tide, the crash of waves on the rise, night storms and calmed mornings, selkie skins washed up on the rocks, lighthouses, salt in your eyes, the sea in her eyes, the great expanse of deep blue, sailing ships, gulls, mist on the water, phosphorescence at night.

heart:  england in may, the first spring beyond home, growing up, falling in love, the unspeakable contentment, the smell of their skin, the sun in your hair, the sweet wind, riding buses to places you’ve never been, your first real drink, waking up and watching the fog come rolling down the cobbled street in a strange village.

mater dolorosa: silent cathedrals, secret kisses at the altar, secrets you’ve never breathed, the immensity of silence, the necessity of prayers, rosary beads slipping through your cold fingers, the longing of gregorian chants and lana del rey.