~ twixx ~

when my eyes quiver open, they are clouded with a thousand years of slumber's remnant

there's moonlight in your touch

when you're gone, i dream of you

I’m tired. Tired of water, tired of remembering, tired of everything.

I bet you're not.

if i were made of paper, i'd write you love letters in my skin

it is in the cooling crest of the essence of autumn that to the edge of the forest i venture to roam

a poem about being an idea