Organicromantic

sometimes, when the light by Lisel Mueller

this is going to be difficult -> i am capable of doing difficult things -> i have done everything prior to this moment -> this difficulty will soon be proof of capability

Remi Rebillard

Writers remember everything...especially the hurts. Strip a writer to the buff, point to the scars, and he'll tell you the story of each small one. From the big ones you get novels— misery by stephen king.

─ Nayyirah Waheed

I’m not casual. I will swallow your soul so we can emerge as one.

One day at the end of May sunlight burst through the mist in the little woods near my house as a thrush was singing.

gothic canopy bed

A poem to a past version of myself -

I’ve always loved the thunder and rain; much more than the civilized sun.

Maybe because I had a gift for seeing the beauty in where others saw somber.

Perhaps this is why I find the best traits in a person filled with flaws.

The potential spark of light in a body of darkness.

Sure, the sun is loved and known for it’s bright beams;

But lightning cracking in overcast has the same quality.

Does she not deserve to be admired?

When that violet voltage strikes, scurry quickly for you might miss the swift illumination amongst the shadowy sky.

Look! There is some semblance of light!

I try to convince…

If I could reach out and touch that beautiful disaster I would.

Perhaps this is why I’ve repeatedly let charming hazards in to fill me violently.

. . .

I’ve always seen myself in the rain.

In the thunder.

In the lightning.

When I see another filled with rain, filled with thunder— I can’t help but want to create a storm.

Yet what the naïve girl in me failed to see;

I wanted to use the rain to feed the flowers,

You wanted to cause a flood.

Roadtrip sex stop. (Bighorn National Forest, Wyoming)