lemonade

and it's just a glass of water

you're staring into

and you're the cup's

half-full

kind of girl

and the water tastes

a lot more bitter than it should

it's the corners of his smile

that reach out like chains

to wrap around your ankles

and p u l l you in

and you're drowning in it

drowning in your reflection

soaking up the reflected light through your pores

you drink it in

the condensing beads of self-hatred and loathing

running d

                o

                     w

                                                         n the side of your glass

and you're caught in this m    z    of thought

                         a    e 

itunes on repeat

                                     how did i miss this?

what's wrong with me?

                                                   what did i fuck up this time?

and maybe, maybe a part of you is asking

what did i do right?

what did i do so perfectly that it managed to push you to this?

[and maybe a part of you thinks

that this is all you'll ever deserve

-- it's not.]

a lone droplet

sends a thousand ripples across

the inertial waters

and it's stained your cheeks

and let's not kid ourselves, here.

you've never been

a

glass

half

full

kind of girl,

and maybe,

maybe

that's just fine.

for thedreamer

i love you, always, and be strong.

she is

she's always lived in between,
in grays,
and hesitation,
and dreams.

there is more to art, she says, than just technical ability.
and so i make my words t a k e  u p all this s p a c e so no one see how hollow they are,
[how hollow i am]
whilst hers--

                             inky hair and parchment skin and candle-lit eyes;
                             watch her cadenza crescendo and split a p a r t at the seams,
                             each note and simile and metaphor and feeling
                             a thrumming baseline in her head
                             as her muse tangos with shadows,
                                 and makes love to light.

i am a streetlight amongst the backdrop of a meteor shower.

for thedreamer

shall i compare thee to a summer's night?

(for the earthgoddess. i love you and keep strong.)

this is easy, you think, and purse your lips.
pillows are deppilf to the cool side as you press your feverish skin,
and you're sure you can't sleep tonight.

it doesn't take much to forget, you reckon, as red strands caress your cheek.
push them away and huff some more, soles (souls) of your feet pad-padding against linoleum ground,
his voice and hands follow achingly in your steps, thick molasses stretching out along your shadows.

you still kind of love him, you admit, and drink freezing, condensing water,
it's not that which drips steadily onto the table in front of you and each droplet shows you a thousand moons;
the stars are dead, long before you see them.

dear dryad daughter, time's a-tickin'

(for thedreamer)

-tick
        there's a grandfather clock adorned in twisting oak,
        and it looms above you, ancient, mad and menacing,
                                                                                       -tock,
tick-
        the pendulum's burnished edge reflects his g-g-green
        eyes and it swings serenely from one side to the o-
        ther like conversation and banter 'tween you should,
                                                                                      -tock,
tick-
        there's clear glass covering the gold as hands worry
        away across a glinting face and you've always been
        a tad transparent to those who know how to look,
                                                                                      -tock,
tick-
        marble floors just create a thousand overlapping
        shadows, parts of his personality you never ever
        wanted to see; he walks away, the best things end.
                                                                                      -tock,
tick-
        there's a grandfather clock adorned in twisting oak,
        and it looms above you, taking up it's old bad-paid
        job; it looms above you and shields you from the
        world.
                                                                                      -tock.

"i think we need to get that clock fixed."
"no, leave it. it's always been like that."

walk away

(for thedreamer, pour ma belle)

you watch his back,
  not because you're protective,
but because he's walking away,

his shirt is perfectly ironed -- by his mother, no doubt --
  and its a blankblankblank white,
and a cynical part of you remarks that it looks kind of like these walls that i'm trapped in,

you can still see his hair,
  feel it, even; his face once hovering inches above yours,
and your hands used to card through, smoothly; you've always had the best pokerface

there's an iloveyou somewhere in there
  but you think it's diminishing unlike the space he makes between you two, footsteps echoing like drums;
if he's not around, who can hear you fall?

commissions&collabs masterpost

to juniper:

Softcover by thedreamer

Internal Battle by thedreamer

because his eyes by the dreamer

Time Lapse by thedreamer

collaborations:

vintage love (thedreamer)
vintage love (juniper) 
by thedreamer and juniper (collaboration)

from juniper:

gaps between my hands for beth

loveleaks for thedreamer

heartbreak tea for conor.r

shall i compare thee to a summer's night? - earthgoddess

walk away - thedreamer

dear dryad daughter, time's tickin' - thedreamer

gaps between my hands

so, number one,
what to call you?
we could have some fun.

so, number two,
what to call you?
it could be just me and you.

so, number three,
what to call you?
i know you wanna be with me.

so, number four,
what to call you?
come meet me on the dance floor.

so, number five,
what to call you?
i can show you what it feels like to be alive.

don't bother to linger,
get in line,
'cos i'm waiting for the right finger,
to loop around mine.

for bethany. i love you, wife.
now, stop mentally cheating on me, kthankxbai.

loveleaks

she touches you softly,
softly over stressed, stretched skin;
no soul will spill,
seep into your skin,
from the grooves of her fingertips.

it's hard for her, not loving you.
it's easier to lie and say she doesn't.

pour ma belle.

heartbreak tea

can you see that? pink and orange and red; the sky is bleeding like our hearts. meshing into dark blue, splattered with stars - not one of them shoot across the sky because we have nothing to wish for anymore.


can you smell that? smoke and fog and mist winding down our trachea, 'till our breaths are heavy with misery. it's killing heart cells too, but we have no use for those anymore.


can you feel that? grass beneath us, entwining with our fingers and hair until no one can remember where we end and where the ground begins. and the wind strokes our skin; mother nature mourns for us too.


can you hear that? a euphony of evening phoenixes rushing overhead and around us, the beat of their song bright and ashen on our lips. the moment of silence as the sun dips over the sky and life takes a breather; maybe, maybe we should too.


          do you remember making neverending
          lists of what we loved best? i wish we 
          could've sent them and i wish they'd 
          made lists for us.
                                                                    do you remember talking to me about how much
                                                                    we just wanted to run over there and scream out
                                                                    'i love you, i love you, i love you' and kiss them?
                                                                    i wish we could've done that and i wish they'd
                                                                    wanted to do it too.
          and do you remember the way we'd 
          stop breathing and thinking when
          they were around us? i love her.
                                                                    and do you remember how our horrible, scary
                                                                    days would just become perfect with one smile
                                                                    or hello and how we dreamt of them? i love him.
           i've forgotten how to smile and i just
           don't understand why i feel this hurt
           and shattered. she couldn't love me.
                                                                    i don't know what's up and down and the world
                                                                    has just stopped moving and i'll never be able to
                                                                    love anyone ever, ever again. he couldn't love me. 


can you taste that? cool and sweet and dry and bitter; it's heartbreak tea.


for c.rice
we'll watch that sunset, love.
pinky promise.