You

You told me

I was like

hot honey

poured

down your

throat, you

said my pain

had the power

to lock eyes

and you told

me I possessed

a sickly

sweetness.

And now as I

pour my hot

honey down the

throats of others

I’m amazed that

a sweetness

could have brewed

inside of me,

and even if it

is wrapped in

pain or is sickly,

 

it is mine.

hey guys

my art didn’t get accepted in my schools juried art show. I feel bummed. I spent a lot of time on my painting. BUT its ok. I have to accept that not everyone will like my work. BUT i also feel sad. 😦 i don’t know what else to share, i just wanted to tell someone. Im going to try to not let this make me feel bad about my art. I know that my art is valid.

All I want to do is get to know the beautiful people all around me. The people that I used to be too afraid to approach. I want to float away, closer and closer to the clouds. Come with me. Talk to me. Love me. Hug Me.

thread

She watched him play

with a thread

in-between his

fingers,

twirling and twirling.

As she stared

she couldn’t tell

if it was him spinning

the thread,

or the thread spinning

him.

She imagined the

loose sweater thread

unraveling

and twisting up his arm,

back on to him.

And who else

would be able

to tell the

sweater was

actually wearing him?