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Photo 2013-04-07 9 26 09 pm
He painted his world in blacks and whites like he was born in grayscale, his sky the colour of the moon on bright nights, his oceans dusted in charcoal. A juxtaposition of intricacy and simplicity, every line drawn in perfect strokes, every detail painstakingly traced, his work dripped tears(more)
The candle in your room burns as you stare out the window, the flicker of light dulled by the bright streetlamps. You feel lonely, amidst the hundreds of houses and families, all whom are sleeping well. The lights only give the illusion of company; you understand your only friend(more)
I wish I existed in a state of perpetual dream, but reality hits harder than a hangover after a night of oblivion.
I hear my name from your lips as I fell through the sky, head first into the darkness. My love, I croak into the emptiness, vast and unforgiving. Is this my punishment for loving you? For feeling the soft red of your lips against mine, your hair splayed across(more)
They say that before babies learn to identify facial expressions, they judge people by their auras.

If that’s true, then your aura must have been the same colour as your hair, a blazing gold that rivaled the stars, because my niece never fails to reach for you lik(more)
Underneath a blanket of cerulean, two parts hydrogen one part breath, my thoughts are laid to sleep, my limbs resting upon something miraculous;
less substantial than my body, but more capable of carrying the weight than my mind, already caving under it's pressure.

I am flowing, unanchored, wonderi(more)
Cavity is too harsh of a word to describe the juncture between your neck and your breastbone, the delicate curve that holds memories of my soft fingers ghosting over it's tender skin. Your body is a vcr player, every touch of my body against yours a triggering memory, and(more)
you live in a castle of glittering lights,
candles lining the windowsills, fairy lights
hanging along the walls. this is your lullaby,
where your delicate lace dreams rest upon
sugar spun clouds. this is your thinking space,
ideas drawn on the walls like a map of your (more)
They say that as you lie on your deathbed, your stale breaths filling the room, a cloaked figure will appear in your room.
The grim reaper, they call him.
The boat sailed through the water, sea spray lapping against the sides. Royal blue stretched overhead, speckled with gold like robin's egg. It was all he could see for miles, the white of his sail a startling contrast to the dark waters.  
I'm so sorry (you had to die. I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry.)
It never takes much to loose lucidity, a glass
or two, pale green to match your eyes.
It brings liquid fire to my veins, dancing
its way through my body. I feel buoyant, weightless,
unsinkable, the great titanic sailing the grand oceans,
the leviathan of the sea, I a(more)
I sip my tea, and you, your coffee, two hot mugs placed in four cold hands. I watch as the steam rose, wispy and translucent, flowing into each other before disappearing, like two souls who had found what they'd been searching for.
we are the pharaohs of our own kingdoms,
kings of sand and dreams, of time and
memories. our golden skin, a testament to
the golden days, when our skin flushed with effervescent youth
and honey lingered on the tip of our tongues (more)
My eyes opened to greet darkness like an old friend, who wrapped tightly around my senses like a handshake. I lay across the cold, gritty surface.  

What was this place?