velvet_gardens

I'm pouring myself into you, filling all your tiny cracks that flaw your perfect facade.

Let me swim through your veins and pass through your heart every second of every minute with each gentle beat.

Weave my fingers through the ivy that creeps through your delicate tapestry hands and clasp at me like I was your favourite blossom in bloom.

I drap my velvet body over your adorned frame, and the smell of you catches in my threads of blood red that now encompass your body. 

I'll breathe you in if you exhale me out as our roots mix into a dangerous cocktail that promises intoxication and empancipation.

Pour me into your mould and let me fill your flawed facade.

Let me complete you. 

Smokers. Part Two. ♡

I've been smoking a lot lately

And I don't know 

If I'm trying to breathe you in

Or smoke you out

But even as my lungs turn to ash

And my hair catches flame

My eyes flicker towards yours 

Hoping to find a lifeline they can grab onto.

I'm drowning in coffeeless mornings 

And smokeless nights.

Light me up with your fire

And tear my paper heart to ribbons

Because it would be a privilege to be destroyed by you. ♡

Smokers.

I go inside and tuck myself into bed. 

The taste and smell of your cigarettes didn't leave. 

So why did you? 

Burning: A fire beneath my skin.

Why are thoughts about burning still prevalent on my mind?

My inner fire has been blazing - reducing my soul to ashes over and over again without the slightest hint of mercy.

Burn. Burn. Burning.

It's not that I want to die - is it? I can't be so ready to completely collapse. How can I be so perfectly content with this blaze inside of me? 

I do not have any excuse to give you for the reason I'm always inhaling the cold and exhaling the heat. A warmth so weak inside you yet burning at a million degrees within me.

How dare I set the world on fire just to watch it burn down. Ashes to ashes and dust to dust, I'm reducing myself to bones.

After it's done, burning, I will be numb. Burnt. Rejected by a world so cold. 

Only I am the red amoungst the black. Standing apart. Set against a dying night, I'm radiating.

These burning thoughts are destroying me, setting my insides on fire for fun. And without a hint of smoke to fill the breezed air it's showing no signs of surrender. 

pollution_

My pages are still littered with thoughts of you that remain long after the smell of you has washed off my clothes.
My skin still tingles in the places your fingertips quietly brushed against it.
Electric sparks.
Firefly glow.
The moments with you -like the clothes strewn across my bedroom floor- are covered with bits and pieces you left behind.
Tiny remnants of the times our breezy eye contact left me breathless, breathless in my tar stained lungs that now only ever seem to inhale your name.
Chipped pieces of porcelain memories of the look in your eyes remain etched into my polluted mind.
Engraved across the pages of my diary.
The smell of your skin beats through my body like my favourite song stuck on repeat.
You're in my icy veins and it seems your sunshine smile is melting through these brittle defenses.
Cracks are forming in the fortress walls I've built so high to guard myself from being hurt again but your velvet lips march on across my battleground body.
I'm under attack in the best way possible and your persona is polluting my castle.