spells cast over the pillow
to make me think i might have
seen you. standing alone,
under the poisoned vines.

make up a piece of poetry
while i lie on my stomach
wishing that i have the chance
to use it, one day.

know the feeling in all its
ardent valour, is only going
to consume me. it's easy
to see how worthless i feel
this week.

word after word,
you still know how
to get to me.

((i cried on the sand today. i forget why.))