ryanuhh
We struggle to move but our limbs are like straw. The stars in the sky are too dim to guide us from this filmy thicket. There are fireflies in the horizon but they dance through the air and play tricks on our eyes.
A manifestation of our fears stemmed from the wake of September and ran languid through July.
Our fingertips bend together slightly, like the feeble legs of a blue crane.
we have been given the most beautiful shapes, the most beautiful colors; the most beautiful fruit. it took me a lifetime before july to realize that the perfect skin on an apple does not constitute the sweetest flesh.
I am not honest, I have no idea if you're honest, but I know that I am not. I don't know if you know that I'm not being honest, but I'm pretty sure you don't.
Lust has turned me into a lioness, a seductress, a hunter. You: my prey. The feelings you make me feel aren't about falling in love, but feeding off this energy and turning into a pheromone-secreting, red-lipped, sleepy-eyed, sexual entity. In turn, the world has noticed and you have not. Lips locked, these nerve endings have graced five people, none of which were you, since falling weak to the feelings you make me feel, failing to exhaust my lust. This is a game, but I play only to win you.
if the weather was predictable, then our expectations would hardly change and we would be constantly surprised.
I believe in time.
I sat back in awe as the forest lit aflame. Fireflies, a crystalline vision, their bodies flashed through mid-air.
when I see his smile, those dimples stretched taut over bronze skin, something feels comfortable, an utter sense of comfortable that I only sometimes glimpse when I look at my father. I don’t understand why I am just now just noticing what is happening; something has changed and it shakes me so subtly, unconsciously, that my reactions are spontaneous and sporadic.