Writing

What is a world without its Sun?

Without.

Warmth to lead seasons into a dance?

Without.

Gravity to pull the tides into longing?

Without.

Light to rend the dark?

The harsh, cruel blue light of the moon shone over my face. I once saw it as beautiful and gentle, but I don’t anymore. My hair had countless pins and hairclips in it, so many that it was almost a half of my hair.

The wind whipped her hood, and I saw a glimpse of her onyx eyes and gently pink lips. She turned towards me, holding her dark black cloak together. Those eyes were so familiar, yet I couldn't place them.

The first thing I saw were orbs of midnight blue, specks of white swirling in their depths like the night sky. Iridescent circles, layered one upon the other, surrounded the eyes.

periwinkle-blue light through my shuttered windows

my heart is racing but my mind is blank with things I don't know how to express

that k-drama I just watched stirred something in me

i live for moments

when the sky gathers 

my broken body 

tenderly within its gentle embrace 

when ebony clouds entwine 

with shining, radiant stars