what we are, pt2.

we fall in the sad category of, ‘could’ve been,’ but then even that’s questionable. we hold hands only when we’ve drank enough to miss each other. we’re those pitiful almost lovers, that sometimes love, and sometimes don’t. in our poems, we are much more in love than we are now. we are presumptions and other…

celeste and noah, iii.

celeste liked painting the sky with her emotions, angry strokes on angry days. for days, she’d stay with the sky, painting it in different shades, leaving empty spaces in between, perhaps for noah to fill in if he ever came back. for days, celeste painted the sky hoping noah will see how beautiful the sky…

to the one he loves next,

consider this an ordinary angsty letter a girl writes after her first heartbreak. i hope this letter finds you in the best of health and love, i have no anger or hatred towards you. with a lot of expectance, i wish for you to understand the importance of being loved. i say this because i…

bittersweet lessons of september. 

losing yourself is easier than it seems. stick to basics.  actions really do speak louder than words.  you learn a lot about a person once you leave. when love starts to be used as a substitute for loneliness, everything turns toxic.  people are rarely who they say they are. it is what it is. we…

things we (i’ve) learn(t) to love slowly:

freckled skin, economics, crooked smiles, trigonometry, puzzles, cranberries, the smell of pineapple, wet grass, grey skies, hazy mornings, rain puddles, yellow bookmarks, smell of ashes, dark polaroids, blurred memories, cinnamon coffee, old writings, labyrinths, green apples, sand in our feet, glitter, christmas themed braces, cotton candy ice cream, ruined paintings, awkward first exchanges, purple pillows,…

noah&celeste, ii.

visual perception: faded purple sky / slight blue lines / almost grey clouds / ticklish green grass / kodaline’s music / discarded snacks, socks and earphones / mistakes kept in a box / unsaid feelings swallowed / chocolate scribbled palms / heartache the only way noah ever knew how to breathe without feeling guilty was…

six truths, six lies.

9. even after it all, i’d still lie on the kitchen floor with you and listen to all the songs that once said all that we couldnt.

noah&celeste, i.

i. on the nights that fell like lightning, celeste busied herself by writing about boys who wouldnt dare to love her. the loud wind would crash against her drenched windows, angry at the sky for having existed with such harshness while it longed to just be loved gently. from the start, celeste knew how to paint…

overlooked / forgotten

delicate hues of a purple sunset —  soft ripples of the blue ocean — sound of keys coming together forming words only we get — whispered poetry — dull polaroids as bookmarks— cookie crumbs left on the last page of your book  — fading marks on your shoulder  —  saturns smudged around the joints — shared metaphors…