basics florals and pastels.
slow to judge, quick to smile, to accept, to laugh. Waking up to mornings are usually quite easy, but it gets a little tough when the world isn’t kind, or when the sun shines way too much. Oftentimes, She,
quits to bubble gum clouds, to space and flower dances over skies of smells, scents, grasses and rains, making love and holding hands when, when it storms around her, hovering, taking over, she admits she quits to
secret gardens, longings, submitting to trees and greeneries, to peace, walking with compassionate soils upon her hands, her lips hang around copper crowns, aglow, not of gold, of pure white bones of stars, moons and suns, interchanging. Memories spark. It rains.
Whilst at sea
Floating under mercies
of night’s armies, stars, moons, night’s wind, invisible divinities, I
comprehend your hand beneath mine, Softly breathing~
Whispering sun within your touch, asleep
scents of sweet pasts mellow me into rest, your warm palm carries me along trails, I smile with a faintly broken heart, even upon your chest, I lay, I still miss, I still~
long for you. As if
nothing is ever enough.
This morning, I’ve lit candles and mounted them on frosted icing over a dozen freshly-baked cupcakes, set them afloat over a sea of deep longing whence the scent will reach you and beg you to already, come home. As I watched the boats set sail, I reminisced, how much farther can this reigning hope flicker?
Dear You. I thought you should know that I’ve been in love with you so much, so deep, that my heart cannot seem to breathe only with a dozen of countable veins and arteries pumping and releasing your red blood, your name, all of you, to the rest of my hungry insides. You, you don’t have the slightest idea how much
mad alive I’ve felt/been, or how desperately painful this is to me, because words never suffice, and that only my ferociously beating heart can tell/confess ever so fully. Put your hands on me, on my skin, my chest, and know that this bomb within me is pure, exploding with irregular heartbeats, holding on to every breath, living in every second, desperately calling. Love, I’ve written your name on air, kissed your sorrows on water, carved your smile on paper, but within my soul, I’ve planted your sincerity, your eyes’ stories, your power, your respect, this love. I shall move myself to tears, should I continue trying to describe to you how full my heart feels. But knowing I’ve held your hand, touched your lips, and that I have your love; there’s nothing else in the world I’ll ever dare need.
This morning I prayed for kindness and compassion, more than I prayed for peace.
There there, I’m going into transition. White, in the presence of all the colors, shall I transcend into barefoot, springy, and a little nervous. An endeavor I won’t call it, but an adventure, into my own world, unveiling places in my heart I’ve never thought existed. Shall I discover new parts of my faces, I shall know soon, yes, very soon, indeed.
There’s always this one kiss that we’ve always envisioned in our heads, holding in our hearts ever so dearly, reverently wishing it happens.
Except that it really does, the kiss that the dawn presses to both our minds’ lips, as we wait and sit and wonder, and anticipate again.. The doctor said the scales will grow off, when my lungs finally recovers fresh air and peels the scales away from my earth, like a seed birthing to peace.
Oh there she goes, the flower on her hair grows.
Emily Ruhl was shot by Billy Kidd