pearlfeather

I want to kiss you
In a way that wonders what your lips feel like close up. In a way that does not give way to exploring hidden contours, but that holds hallowed corridors in sinful hands. I want to kiss you in a way that makes you shy. In a way that makes your head bow and your cheeks blush. I want to kiss you in a way that makes you feel colour and hear light and taste sound. In a way that makes you see masterpiece painted upon your skin.

I want kiss you
In a way that makes your hand crawl into my hand like a sonnet. I want to kiss you whole.

lupinemother asked:

Dearest Amy, I always see your pictures and you usually are sporting ear buds. what are some of your favourite artists/bands?

In no particular order: Of Monsters and Men, Ludovico Einaudi, Mumford & Sons, La Dispute, Dar Williams, The Civil Wars, Smashing Pumpkins, Counting Crows, Ricky Skaggs, The Head & The Heart, The Weepies, The Tallest Man On Earth, The Grateful Dead, Quicksilver Messenger Service, Third Eye Blind, Yo Yo Ma, Beethoven, Dvorak, Stars, Hey Rosetta!, Sublime, Panic! At The Disco, Pink Floyd, Dispatch.

Winter will always be my favourite season.

Where things had died all around us, we were coping with the lies that affection gave us. I was enchanted to meet your eyes when I finally built up the courage to look into them. I don’t remember feeling my fingers but I remember you holding my hand. You felt me, so I knew I had to be real. My wooden masks fell all round our feet and you saw the make up’d heap I collected. I peeled the armour from your heart and you gave it to me, no questions asked. Now I hold my hand up in front of it to keep it safe from rosethorns and vines and vipers hiding in the wading grass. We kept each others’ secrets bound in paperweights and threw them into the sea because nothing mattered but the lights. I found paper lanterns when I met you, you slid them under my bed to keep the ghosts away.

Sun, the moon ripped open her fragile skin just for you

Peeling back every bruise

Every scar, every ruse

for you and the ocean to gaze upon

Because in spite of everything she conceals

She simply wants you to find the core beautiful

To show you she is worth the mess she gives you

You saw the moon last night, with brand new eyes, you saw the brimming of new and old light strung together on traffic lights and city sounds. Your clambering feet climbed air and you scavenged for breath under rocks. We peered through windows at the breathing and pushed each others chests up and down to mimic their rise and fall. We concluded from our findings that we were not human and that’s okay. with your sketchpad tongue, etched birds of many feathers to keep me company. we huddled, you and I, beneath the big tree branches. your kisses fell on my cheeks and emblazoned your name on my wrist, so I would never forget your fingerprints were there.

The streetlight switched her dancer’s hips, enticing me with her finesse. She owned the sidewalks, street signs, traffic lights, and railroad tracks. I was a runaway, a homeless half pint, shotglass heart painted sepia by her gaze. She was the angel, white-freeze dried salvation. she was gonna set me free. In a fevered kiss, my hand met my lips and I danced with the street woman till I forgot I had feet.

We are born of shipwrecks and poppies. In a wind blown tree, you found me. Scrunched up, trying to see the forest. You grabbed me by the waist and brought me in the forest to see the trees. But I kept my eyes closed because you were the only giant I wanted to see. We were ants, you and I, beneath the branches. Stealing kisses and losing pocket watches to lake mermaids, my tender skin didn’t frighten you and your scraggly appearance didn’t scare me. Rather, your soft, earthy eyes drew me in. Your smiling eyes. And they haven’t stopped since the night beneath the streetlight where you took my small frame into your jacket to keep me warm. You’re my favourite smile.

My treehouse dreams were for you. I handed them to you in a bouquet of sunflowers as you tattooed “bitter” on my arm. I gave you my demons in winter sweaters. I was asking all the wrong people to pilot me. I am sorry for handing you a burden you could not withstand.

her soft hands and stomach tremble, “please be gentle. please don’t touch me. I am tender and will crack, am cracking under every tree and gun..please don’t lay anymore clouds on my back.” she pleads before I can even utter a word. I haven’t a belligerent bone in my body to offer her

“I can’t take it. please be gentle. please whisper and do not speak aloud. softly whistle placid waters into my ears, I’m drowning in hurricanes” I sing her off to starlight.

Can’t you see, darling? I shan’t lay a bruising finger upon you, your lovely spirit will not let me. I am drawn to you as a well. I will paint you skylines on harsh walls. Caress your most prominent fears. I will play your heartache away.

I remember when I settled on the task of finding a force that stops like bodies do and in that I found myself red handed. How I desire to use tenses the works haven’t thought of yet! How I treasure backwards becoming the future soon enough. And no one has seen what I have seen with their charcoal eyes that see no light. See no life. They can’t tell if the blue dress you don looks nice on you, and it does. I promise. Your best dress is plenty beautiful but not fitting for war. I’m sorry I got the lit end of the candle where you had to learn how to fashion a wick without setting your house on fire. Jewel-tears made canyons in my cheeks for my soul-man. Because lord and everyone knows I don’t cry for no body. I pretend I’m apart of the scenery everywhere I go. I pretend I live in a picture frame somewhere.

I want you.

I want you to tell me about every piddly, mediocre event that took place today. I want to walk down the sidewalk like we used to, sometimes in silence with the only sound breaking it is our clasped hands cutting through the air. I want to sing to you whatever song pops into my head. I want you to push me on the swing till I can touch branches with my feet. My heart misses you so intensely, it doesn’t know how to cope.
I want you. Here.

But you can’t hear me calling you.

I miss her.

I miss laughing so hard, no sound erupts from from her lips. I miss her wide mouth, open face laughter that opened the whole room up to sunlight. I miss her eyes that told me ‘yes’. The eyes that gave every secret without uttering a word. Her hands that caressed faces with the utmost tenderness. I miss her feet that dance on the moon, her exuberance that left me full of breath. I miss her arms that always made sure I had a place to call home. Her heartbeat that ba-boom ba-boomed faster the closer I got to her.

I miss her. I hold her laughter in my hands.

I sit in parking lots watching busy highways in the middle of the night from the safety of my car, oftentimes wondering what possesses me to do such things. Oh yeah.. Love. That thing that makes the world go round or whatever (actually I heard someone say it was money once and wanted to deck them in the face). Lit only by man made stars on fishing poles and reflective pavement, my brain throbs like the chiming of the endless hour inside my skull. And all I want is to be answered. But my only company remains whispering wind and music without manners. ‘why do you insist on keeping me waiting?’
And I still wonder this.