i didn’t realize how easy it was to forget the pain of always wanting the impossible. such is life.
hey,
casanova.
Oct 02
Mar 18
“ FLOWER of the moon!
Still white is her brow whom we worshiped on earth long ago;
Yea, purer than pearls in deep seas, and more virgin than snow.
The dull years veil their eyes from her shining, and vanish afraid,
Nor profane her with age—the immortal, nor dim her with shade. 5
It is we are unworthy, we worldlings, to dwell in her ways;
We have broken her altars and silenced her voices of praise.
She hath hearkened to singing more silvern, seen raptures more bright;
To some planet more pure she hath fled on the wings of the night,—
Flower of the moon! 10
Yet she loveth the world that forsook her, for, lo! once a year
She, Diana, translucent, pale, scintillant, down from her sphere
Floateth earthward like star-laden music, to bloom in a flower,
And our hearts feel the spell of the goddess once more for an hour.
See! she sitteth in splendor nor knoweth desire nor decay, 15
And the night is a glory around her more bright than the day,
And her breath hath the sweetness of worlds where no sorrow is known;
And we long as we worship to follow her back to her own,—
Flower of the moon!
Still white is her brow whom we worshiped on earth long ago;
Yea, purer than pearls in deep seas, and more virgin than snow.
The dull years veil their eyes from her shining, and vanish afraid,
Nor profane her with age—the immortal, nor dim her with shade. 5
It is we are unworthy, we worldlings, to dwell in her ways;
We have broken her altars and silenced her voices of praise.
She hath hearkened to singing more silvern, seen raptures more bright;
To some planet more pure she hath fled on the wings of the night,—
Flower of the moon! 10
Yet she loveth the world that forsook her, for, lo! once a year
She, Diana, translucent, pale, scintillant, down from her sphere
Floateth earthward like star-laden music, to bloom in a flower,
And our hearts feel the spell of the goddess once more for an hour.
See! she sitteth in splendor nor knoweth desire nor decay, 15
And the night is a glory around her more bright than the day,
And her breath hath the sweetness of worlds where no sorrow is known;
And we long as we worship to follow her back to her own,—
Flower of the moon!
— Harriet Monroe
Jan 24
uninspired
a song, written for school.
also why i am not a poet.
some of the sillyness can be attributed to required elements.
“chirp, chirp.” little birds sing.
a whispered good morning
hello, life, and, hello, subtle warning.
a reminder of the past
a promise for the futurewelcome to our lives:
a slideshow in blurs of color
melodies of emotions
in a choir of heartstrings
and, oh, we will not pretend.good evening, little birds
see, a sunset sweeping shadows
across your tiny home
can you promise me a night sky
like velvet overhead?oh, little birds, play your melody
as softly as the dew covered grass
the springtime in your songs
reminds me that i am not forgotten
and, remember, we are alive
tell me, little birds, how life plays out
like a symphony in slow motion
tell me, tell me, all the secrets
which we must uncover:
treasures forever locked away.
Jan 13
“ life has taught us that love does not consist in gazing at each other, but in looking outward together in the same direction.
— the little prince,
antoine de saint-exupéry.
antoine de saint-exupéry.
i hope you still write
tonight, it hurts to read your words. oh god, what did i do to you?
the worst part? i don’t remember if i sent you that last letter.
Dec 12
ruby glow.
whispers. doubtful glances. shifting movements that lead to nervous laughs and careful smiles. the feeling of suffocating as the world presses down on fragile shoulders.
i’ve found that i don’t do the things i used to love anymore. i barely touch my camera or spend time with my friends. i rarely smile just for the sake of smiling. i never have time to dance alone in my bedroom or sit down to write just for myself.
i’m so scared that i’m losing everything and everyone that i love as i make bigger and bigger decisions.
eleven days until i am officially an adult. i don’t like the thought of it.
Sep 25
don't tell me if i'm dreaming.
it’s a shock to realize you’re no longer the center of someone’s everyday life. it’s painful to finally see that you’re not the person you once were and that you’ve changed for the worst. it’s not comforting to know that you are all alone for real this time. pretending is so comforting. trying to hide from the truth is so mundane.
i don’t want to pretend anymore. it’s time to face the facts.
Jun 16
i need you wide awake now.
i know i mocked you for wanting to be that couple who walks through the park holding hands even when they’re 97 years old, but the truth? i think it’s the sweetest thing i’ve ever heard come out of your mouth. and i hate that it draws me to you even more.
i keep telling myself i’m fine just being friends with you, but i really want so much more.
i hate this feeling more than anything.
May 28
there is something strangely comforting about having spent your entire life as the ugly duckling.
