❝ The boredom that comes with quarantine, leads a guy to ring up a stranger in the middle of the night, hoping to find someone to talk to. Someone to laugh with. Someone to annoy. Someone that'll make it hurt less. ❞ ▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄ "What happened yesterday?" "𝗗𝗼𝗲𝘀𝗻'𝘁 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝗰𝗲𝗿𝗻 𝘆𝗼𝘂." "I'm certain, I heard something fall-" "𝗬𝗲𝗮𝗵, 𝗶𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝘀 𝗺𝘆 𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗿𝘁..." "No way, it sounded louder than a shirt-" "𝗜 𝘄𝗮𝘀 𝗶𝗻 𝗶𝘁 𝘄𝗵𝗲𝗻 𝗶𝘁 𝗳𝗲𝗹𝗹, 𝗱𝘂𝗺𝗯𝗮𝘀𝘀." ▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄ HIGHEST RANKINGS- #1, IN QUARANTINE #2, IN MESSAGES #2, IN PHONECALL Copyright © cherry, 2020

my disposition on your skin © 072818 , enamoramos

you've left me; constellations left unstrung within my veins. highest ranking; #2 in poetry november 2018

oh romeo, why must you be born a montague? ©contra, 2016

vanilla scented poetry

you are my sun #11 052418 #7 070618 #1 071018 © 123017, enamoramos

boyhood, withering beneath a wild sky (#37 in poetry 12/11/17) © vangohs, 2017

is not a novel. it is a reliquary of devotion turned disease， love pressed too tightly until it bruises. these words are embalmed offerings. 𝘐 𝘞𝘈𝘚 𝘕𝘖𝘛 𝘉𝘖𝘙𝘕， 𝘐 𝘞𝘈𝘚 𝘜𝘕𝘌𝘈𝘙𝘛𝘏𝘌𝘋. a body of whispers，stitched hunger， guilt， and the soft wet sound longing. I do not write to be understood. I write to rot beautifully. lace - threaded， blood - warm， meant to be found beneath the floorboards of your better judgment. if you recognize yourself in these pages， don't run. it's already too late. 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 | 2023

wither, with him, within

goodbye, my love.