yours
were in and out of this earthly realm
and
mine, I think, a past life
we
talk about our paper skin and wonder~
if
all people are like this // I guess we made a soul pact back then
yesterday
your bedroom looked as sore as my puffed up eyes
something
kinda empty like a crust
where
there was no bed anymore just clothes and a bunch of pens
+ +
that weird porcelain face I bought you
was
looking back at me like it knew
I
was getting nostalgic, tonight
it's
cold for the first time in a while
and
I can feel my skin prickling like a plant
and
maybe the way I extend to you is like leaves growing towards
sunlight
I
think there's
warmth
in all the melancholy,
cause
we've made a cosy nest in it for years now, and the other day
when
it was raining I felt
like
my house wasn't real, the way the floorboards
sink
in places, it's just parts people have put together
and
it doesn't have a meaning,
and
I dissociate sometimes, with people,
and
my body feels like a hologram of my creation.
there's
a power in it, in the implication
it
can be turned it off
———
Tonight, it's like the first day of the week or even season,
and I'm getting so sentimental
that even my
+/ chipped
nail polish is reminding me of the impermanence of life
+/ and
time - a loose concept, a story to navigate and navigate, tomorrow,
+/ I
might wake up with you and it will feel like last week, and last year,
{and
I think we've definitely said that paper skin thing before}
I
wish it were raining outside while we're spooning
so
I can pretend we're in my old room for a bit
but
I can't trick my mind without soundscapes
sometimes
seb chops veggies in the other room
and
I feel like I'm home from school
waiting
for mum to call out Dinner
sometimes
you hold your breath in your sleep
it's
probably bad for you or something,
but
it helps me feel like we're on that single bed
with
pokey springs and i'm excited (for once)
to
get older
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