star knees

House Aesthetics

GRYFFINDOR the bonfire spitting stars// skinned knees and scabbed-over knuckles//sand seeping between your toes//wrists branded with matching tattoos//cigarette smoke and the pounding of drums//uncertainty tucked under your tongue like a beehive, like a knife, like something you wish would stop hurting you

{bonds as strong and as steady as the summer sun}

HUFFLEPUFF polaroids strung across your throat// dandelion seeds spinning across the skin of your palm//the sky crowded with stars//ferns reaching up to caress your face// minimalism and vintage clothes// tenacity rooted in you like a third lung// falling and the whole world tilting to catch you

{the world is as enchanted as you make it out to be}

RAVENCLAW calligraphy inked across the curve of your cheekbones// the personification of winter, all beauty and crisp edges// the flicker of computer screens// gowns sweeping across marble floors// standing still in a sea of people// the bass thudding through you like a second heartbeat

{stress cresting in a wave that threatens to drown you, but always comes just shy}

SLYTHERIN the moon hanging in the sky like a claw//fingers laced through chain link fences//girl cults and blood oaths//their bodies a staircase for your ambition//test answers scrawled across the skin of your thighs//distressed jeans and lipstick as red as your defiance// loyalty coiled like a snake across like crevices of your collarbone

{cowardly is just what we make you think we are until you give us a reason to be crafty}

Listen, you will find the most breathtaking beauty in the ugly things.

Scars that are maps to faraway times when your pride was as loud as your heart, a split lip reminder of being braver than you are now, a shape of a star on your knee that is the shape of your heart, fingertips to the sky, soul to the stars.

You’ll find beauty in crooked knees and too long limbs, all over the place, reaching reaching reaching and never pausing because this world is yours to take and who cares if you are a collage of ugly things, if your teeth aren’t straight and if your hair is hurricane messy (not in a good way but in the best fucking way there is), who cares?

You’ve got a story to tell for every scar, every flaw; this one is from when I was reckless and young and wild and this one you can’t see because it was cut into your skin (the shape of a jagged piece of glass) the first time they stomped on your heart but you rose, you rose and you kept burning, got scars to show, been through hellfire and kept walking.

What I am trying to say is that maybe it’s 3am and you can’t sleep, maybe you feel like your lungs are full of the cosmos or maybe you can’t breathe in (some nights are hard, it’s alright, I’ve got you) but you’re good, you always were. You are not a pretty thing, you don’t smile and make the world stop, but you’ve got the kind of body that is a map and it will always, always bring you back home.

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Star & zodiac symbol embroidery, Emilio Pucci Fall 2015

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                          HERE THEY COME AGAIN. WORMING THEIR WAY
                          INTO THE BLACK MATTER OF MY BRAIN. I TELL MYSELF:
                          THEY CANNOT TOUCH ME. THEY ARE LONG DEAD.
                          ❪ prev. rockatanskis. est 2015 / rb 2016. ❫