anthaea

how could it be that i'm made the fool whilst you are flick around your most intimate fervours, a gentle smile in your eyes? how come i'm still finding daggers coated with your fingerprints in my heart? how have you come to be this stinging creature with no real thought of the world and love and death and me? i am a pomegranate and you devoured too much bitter

anthaea

how could it be that i'm made the fool whilst you are flick around your most intimate fervours, a gentle smile in your eyes? how come i'm still finding daggers coated with your fingerprints in my heart? how have you come to be this stinging creature with no real thought of the world and love and death and me? i am a pomegranate and you devoured too much bitter

anthaea

it is a dark summer friday night. four minutes are counting down to midnight. the chipper and melodious tunes of beasts echo in the shadowed living room. water is running in our silent bodies, on the streets lit by yellow lamps, within the falling apart tv screen. this is everlasting.

anthaea

i'm loving these summer nights. the sweet and sultry breezes of the wind in the shadows, the taste of strawberries on my lips, the grins we exchange while cycling - it seems like a dream flown away, but you're still here, smiling down at me.