Sunday, 27 July 2025

honey

running in the pink sky;
he said there was more 
in the black turned, tips.
flower ends are turning violet
just by being here. by breathing in
the calves running and filtered
grass
splitting.
finished under water
with tubes 
tied to died
aliens.
i stepped on our 
batwings and
cried lungs out.
my heartbeat is
alive and
windy
and perfect.

invisible lined protection

after, life. there was a pause and we ended our grass-grown eyebrows and curled up against our dreaming eyes. this is where i leave you, and...