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BITE 苹果
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EACH MINUTE, EACH SECOND IS SO SWEET WHAT IS THIS MAN? I CAN'T HELP BUT TO FALL IN LOVE.
FRIDAY iu
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hazy mornings are said to be dripping with honeydew. rumors propose speculation of the sickeningly azure sky glossed with watercolors strung of the tears of those in heaven to leak liquid to that of apple juice. transparent melon insides bordering candy slipping from the hands of a god. where the haze forms? of heads smeared in a pureed magenta that used to persevere as brain links, confusion-laced mouths tight and creased in the folds of saggy skin? people say that clouds are threaded with willow trees perched on the edge of death. cotton of sheets burn thin polyester fabric creased with the weighing scent of cheap vanilla mist akin to that of a teenage sleepover involving the words sex and smudged apologies underneath the grasp of an awkward situation. maybe it wore a thick consistency of blood churned out in the hue of burgundy jimin had poured onto his once brown tendrils in the early 24 hour dances of which struggled to contain him and his excitement.
drives stretched out onto acres of land concealed to the bare minimum of stale sandcastles and fingers so wet the flesh presses into mush, of whom clasped around a cuff of waves. sea salt foamed up on split tongues and transportation idly stopped at a work's destination. clicking heels was jimin's ringtone in the heart of the city's mornings. for jimin realized that nothing about the sky was real; it was blurred into a thick pasture of beauty amidst painful memories trapped within a familiar childhood swimming with fleeting bursts of im okay. freedom grinds out into blackened veins and cries from the blur of colors duller than a keen cooking knife, nonetheless as colorful as his pajamas.
jimin's eyes were glazed with the regret of ever opening them. chapped scarlet patches nipped on his toes due to the cold spring wind infiltrating the window screen, causing him to bury his face in the shadows of the sheets. however, his head lifted up the slightest upon hearing the bed creak on its springs and the pad of light footsteps in the direction of the bathroom. lazy smiles were accustomed to jimin's muscle memory, as his lips widened into one of the many he throws amongst the early mornings. oozing through his heart, gooey and sticking to his flesh in a saturation of saccharine breaths, lay love.
hazy mornings were his favorite to him because he believed the dew of the skies clung to his lover's fading, firm abs in scattered droplets that would hold both the temperatures of a melting iceberg and a hot pan sizzling on a stove. warmth sprung as hot as wicked sun beams scratching his skin tan dusted with a burn of honey on a good day.
