radiant weave

there is a boy sitting over a headstone
hair curled up towards the sun
his naked feet lightly warming the black marble

‘hey, big sis’, do you remember our dawn?’

his voice so sweet and mellow
and his smile radiant as his hands weave
flowers into crown, grass into blade

‘no, i only remember the dusk’

says the girl below the rotting earth
her voice is deep and as low as a hum
her words sharp like the arrow that broke her heart
the moon fell, all at once, yet as slow as time can be
silver shining bright in the daylight and then red

nobody noticed, not even the sun she shielded
but then again she had always known
she was born to be forgotten

—  rattled bones (linn d.)

anonymous asked:

what do you envision your wife to look like?

smiling, radiant, light weaved into her skin, tenderness stitched into her palms. I don’t know at all what she might exactly look like physically, but i know my heart will see her as the words “safe,” and “home.”