Sand-papered wooden floors & ocean scattered sandscapes.
She sips Pepsi from a straw because she likes the way it fizzes on her tongue, a thousand unshed words staining the parchment of her palm lines. At noon on cloudless days, she holds idle conversations with the sun, & when it rains, she writes reminiscences across foggy windows in hopes her dreams won't fade once her back is turned. Sometimes, she paints with chocolate & cream because when she's sad, she only sees in grainy sepia, but she never let it bother her. They twirl empty fingers through foggy sunrises as their eyes lock across the haze of hello, but they'll never understand that the lightning caressing their veins is a hint to slow down. It's the neon-ridged glow of love in the making, but their battles lie heavy on drooping shoulders & they'll never notice the signs. Sometimes, love isn't the fairytale story after all, but an on-ramp we neglected to take. & Eventually, she'll write her way into the arms of a rapist & he'll drink his way into destruction, because sometimes, cupid misses his mark.
She sips Pepsi from a straw because she likes the way it fizzes on her tongue, a thousand unshed words staining the parchment of her palm lines. At noon on cloudless days, she holds idle conversations with the sun, & when it rains, she writes reminiscences across foggy windows in hopes her dreams won't fade once her back is turned. Sometimes, she paints with chocolate & cream because when she's sad, she only sees in grainy sepia, but she never let it bother her. They twirl empty fingers through foggy sunrises as their eyes lock across the haze of hello, but they'll never understand that the lightning caressing their veins is a hint to slow down. It's the neon-ridged glow of love in the making, but their battles lie heavy on drooping shoulders & they'll never notice the signs. Sometimes, love isn't the fairytale story after all, but an on-ramp we neglected to take. & Eventually, she'll write her way into the arms of a rapist & he'll drink his way into destruction, because sometimes, cupid misses his mark.