ThePhoenixFliesAgain

i dream of us getting lost, in the field overgrown with wildflowers. each a brilliant, shining, golden gleam that reflected off your eyes, and made me think of endless skies and the touch of your lips to mine. a never ending dream, the fractured fairytale of us: that got us lost in each others arms for hours until all our breath was each others names, and the wistless wind carried them for miles and miles. and the only witness to our sometimes sins was the sun and cloudy stars above. our heads, pillowed on the earthy dampness the smell of goldenrod in our heads and the sweetness of honeysuckle on our lips. i dream of us ge

The witch Baba Yaga once baked herself bread out of spiders and liars and red razorwire that was garnished with flowers from the vaults of the dead, and sweetened with lye from a child’s funeral pyre. It was light as the crisp, cracking bones on the fields and as sharp to the taste as the ash-scattered shards that were all that remains of the swords and the shields of the warrior king and his bold bodyguards. In a chicken leg hovel at the edge of a wood the witch Baba Yaga licks the dregs from the spoons that she used to stir soup, spiced and thickened with blood that the dying ones spilt from their widowing wounds. But her

A thousand loves. A lonely sea. Swamped by herself, A lonely me. Morn after morn, My burden weighs. Despite all My affectionate displays. During the day, I'll try and try. Throughout the night, These blue eyes just cry. Despite my hints. Despite my words. Offenses and shortcomings Is all that I have heard. My luck is not changing, I've been lost at sea. My ocean is lonliness, Please come find me.