origami heart.
i haven't posted in a long time.
this was inspired by something an online friend said (she was talking about her new OC origami-kun) and this is so random and romanticised, but i tried.
if you feel like this is completely unoriginal, feel free to shout at me. i am aware that some notions in here are quite clichéd (i am disappointed in myself) but this was to satisfy my need to write something. and also for me to imagine my ships folding origami for each other. [weeps sadly]
in summary, this is a poem about origami. yay.
origami heart
he rolls up a piece of paper and
pretends it is his telescope, because
she is the star that he watches when night
falls;
and when she puts her eye to the other end,
he thinks he can see the galaxy.
his hands are an abstract painting
of plasters that hide the
paper cuts decorating his skin;
she tells him to buy gloves
and he does - in a vain attempt
to stop his heart from bleeding poetry.
he buys paper with pretty designs
paper that he wants to keep for himself,
paper he wants to condense his love into -
and he does, but he folds it into a box,
gives it to her, and hopes
that it doesn't remain empty.
the words he writes on the whites of square paper
are a message of longing
but he is afraid to overwhelm her,
so he hides them within the creases of a
paper crane
and sends it flying to the stars.
maybe he'll send nine hundred and ninety-nine more, for good luck.
this was inspired by something an online friend said (she was talking about her new OC origami-kun) and this is so random and romanticised, but i tried.
if you feel like this is completely unoriginal, feel free to shout at me. i am aware that some notions in here are quite clichéd (i am disappointed in myself) but this was to satisfy my need to write something. and also for me to imagine my ships folding origami for each other. [weeps sadly]
in summary, this is a poem about origami. yay.
origami heart
he rolls up a piece of paper and
pretends it is his telescope, because
she is the star that he watches when night
falls;
and when she puts her eye to the other end,
he thinks he can see the galaxy.
his hands are an abstract painting
of plasters that hide the
paper cuts decorating his skin;
she tells him to buy gloves
and he does - in a vain attempt
to stop his heart from bleeding poetry.
he buys paper with pretty designs
paper that he wants to keep for himself,
paper he wants to condense his love into -
and he does, but he folds it into a box,
gives it to her, and hopes
that it doesn't remain empty.
the words he writes on the whites of square paper
are a message of longing
but he is afraid to overwhelm her,
so he hides them within the creases of a
paper crane
and sends it flying to the stars.
maybe he'll send nine hundred and ninety-nine more, for good luck.