l'aimant;
i feel so small sometimes, sipping on juice, barely able to eat, my skin so white with this mother-of-pearl sheen to it. my eyes are emerald, coal. and i feel so loved and cared for, and the strong ties of family again - and somehow weakened by it all, though not diminished; just overwhelmed. like i've spent so long standing in the shallows jumping waves, but here i am caught in the riptide and it's beautiful and incomprehensible.
i don't know how to handle myself. mercurial, volatile. i am not an easy person to live with, even at my calmest. today is an anniversary. i never know how to thank him enough. symbolic gifts and a tiny card. all i could write was I LOVE YOU, in huge black lettering.
all is full of love, you know? those sky photographs of mine, the deepest kind of love, that vacuum underneath your ribs drawing these huge intense cloudscapes down into you until you're swollen and alive with it all as well. envelopes from jennie, photographs of yawning oriental lilies, their perfume thick and heady. stand inside your love, nag champa, titanium exposé. cinerama. he gives me fairylights and seventies punk rock seven-inches. love is a deeper season.
i'm a tragic romantic in shades of insomnia, on a day when being worn this paper-thin is almost comfortable.