march 2016
newly-bloomed red roses, and the way blinds allow the bright early morning sun to pierce them. chamomile tea and loosely turning pages of a thriftshop poetry book while waiting for oatmeal to cool before eating it slowly, quietly. observing how the native birds sip at the water in the bowls she's layed out for them at the base of the old paperbark tree just off the veranda.
thoughtful; is what she is. who she is. thinking of others all the time, and prioritising them in such a way that doesn't make her put herself second.
she is all azure eyes and white linen, and i like that i can say that about her and have it be true.
her hair is a surfer's beach and a jeweller's dream. she has skin that rarely sees anything beside white light, but when the roses in her cheeks bloom it only adds to her delicacy. it truly is such a shame that we are not right for each other; too similar, yet too different.
