Vincent Van Gogh's Painting Details

my lungs.

they are too small for my body.

they have not the mass to handle each shuddering breath, each desperate gasp that begs “please, please, let me express something”

my body.

it is too small for my feelings.

it snaps and groans and stretches to try to accommodate the maelstrom within my chest, to no avail, so the scream claws its way up my throat and out my mouth, hurling insult and injury towards anyone nearby.

and I stand in the aftermath,

in the rubble,

and wonder what I have become.

our home should have colours and flowers. daisy sims hilditch / christine atkins / stephen darbishire / marie-louise roosevelt pierrepont

have a cat.

can I feel everything at once?

it is how I feel when I see you, my beloved—

grappling violently between

the edge of euphoria

and the pit of despair.

how do i prolong love?

it’s as if I poured gasoline on my heart

lit it up

and expected it not to burn out in an instant.

I want the kind of love that smolders,

the kind that may not be passionate,

but ever present, ever warm, ever burning.

come lie with me in the embers, dearest.

we can curl up on the coals

and burn together.

being trans is a bit like

running hands over yourself and thinking

“i cannot wait for there to be a scar there

in the place of something else”

to know that all that will be left is the mark

a tangible reminder of how the creator wronged you

and how you made it right

Hydroluminescence

(c) gifs by riverwindphotography,July 2023

The Poet, Reynier Llanes, 2021

fireflies honestly make me cry a little. out of gratitude and wonder. thank goodness we live in a world with bioluminescence. thank goodness we live in a world where it can fly.

sometimes,

I fear,

I feel too much.