icarus' sweltering infernos

and if mother nature could sing, she would mimic the sound of your voice 12/08/21

would you come home to me? 06/17/22

past midnight; i write thank you notes.

stripped of meaning, I am just conscious enough

i stole my father's cigarettes so you could scold me for smoking because you are my prettiest love affair.

somewhere in between; eerie, forlorn, and often surreal -

my winter sun / my ailing skin / my dying roses /

to the god i do not believe in.

my lovers meld together